Broken Monotony
by Alexis Prink
Summary: Gwen's life was going nowhere fast. She gets a wake up call when Draco Malfoy comes into her workplace one day and makes an uncharacteristic purchase, setting Gwen on a path that leads her to working for the Order of the Phoenix.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: The world of the Harry Potter stories is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling. _

Part 1

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had become a huge success in the wizarding world. Many people baulked that two Hogwarts dropouts could have made so much for themselves in little more than a year's time. While some might say they would have been better served by completing their educations, the Weasley brothers couldn't have been more pleased with the way things were going for them. Their business was bringing in the cash, and they were doing what they loved. What could be better?

And no one could say they hadn't done things right. With the money they received from a patron whose identity only the two brothers knew, they had bought a building, fixed it up, stocked it, and even hired a few employees. With their instant success, due to good timing, what with the grim turn the world had taken with the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, they quickly expanded the stock of merchandise and hired more help.

By the end of their second summer, they had approximately nine employees, a far cry from their original two. One of these originals had remained with them: Gwendolyn Partle. Gwen, as she was sometimes called, had been a year behind Fred and George at Hogwarts, before they left, that is, and had graduated only a few months earlier with high marks in Charms. At eighteen years old, fresh out of school, she was eager to start her career as, well, she wasn't quite sure what. This is why she was worried. As fun as working at Wizard Wheezes could be, she didn't want to spend her life there. She didn't want to work in an office. That narrowed down a lot of things, like a job at the ministry. She also didn't want to work in a shop. The monotony would drive her mad! No, Gwen's current setup was only temporary, while she figured out what to do with her life.

These very thoughts went through her mind as she restocked the Giggling Gargles display in the back of the store. Every time her thoughts strayed too far from her work, she would accidentally squeeze one of the Gargles, and an odd, wet sounding chuckle would emanate from it. She wasn't even sure what they were supposed to do, but then, they weren't one of the Weasley twins' specialties.

She turned her head and saw her reflection in the glass display of Periwinkle Potions (whoever drank one would turn a very pretty shade of blue). She scrutinized herself briefly and shrugged her shoulders. She wasn't beautiful, but she wasn't ugly either. She had a good face. An interesting face. That was all she needed. She had always liked her hair though, even though she was never sure why. The brownish-blonde color and curls weren't anything amazing, but she took pleasure in them. Her hazel eyes matched them well, too, she thought.

She shook herself out of her vain thoughts and turned back to her work. As soon as she had done, Fred and George appeared on either side of her with a loud pop. "We need someone to man the register," said George. "Isabella went to lunch without telling anyone again," Fred elaborated.

"No problem," Gwen nodded.

"Excellent," they said in unison. That had always made Gwen chuckle to herself. She wondered if they practiced or if it came naturally. Swarms of people blocked her path to the register, but that was how it usually was in the store. Never a day went by when people of all ages weren't crowded in the building.

Having elbowed her way to the counter, she situated herself behind it and waited. Register duty held the most dull prospect for whomever was lucky enough to be assigned it, but Gwen prided herself on her work ethic, though this often meant comparing herself to the other workers with the end result of making her feel superior to them in some way. But Fred and George couldn't complain.

After thirty minutes of ringing up people's purchases and aiding others in finding what they needed, the door opened and a figure in black appeared in stark contrast to his colorful surroundings. Gwen recognized the platinum-blonde youth as Draco Malfoy, who had been somewhat of a joke to many Ravenclaw students. His immature antics had made a negative impression, but when they had heard about the role he played in aiding You-Know-Who in Gwen's seventh year, there was no more laughing at his expense. Still, seeing him brought a grin to the side of Gwen's mouth, remembering his original ridiculous reputation.

As the door closed behind him, he surveyed his surrounding with disdain, yet he continued further in, though the atmosphere obviously repulsed him. He made his way to Gwen's counter. To her discomfort, the reality of his new, far less funny reputation pushed itself to the front of her mind, but she smiled at him and asked, "can I help you with anything?"

"Yes," he replied arrogantly. "I want to know if you have something that will make it so that someone can't hear what I'm saying when I'm right in front of them."

Gwen thought for a moment. She hated it when people asked her questions like this. Very vague. And in her earlier days, they ended up making her look like an idiot, until she learned to talk in circles. That way the person she was talking to thought she was saying something intelligent and didn't realize they hadn't learned anything until after they had left. She decided not to push her luck with this one.

"So, you want to be able to talk to someone without them know it?"

"Sort of," he said impatiently. "Let's say there are three people in a room: myself and two other people. I want to talk to person A without person B knowing what I'm saying to person A."

Gwen thought for a moment while Malfoy crossed his arms and searched the shelves behind the counter with his eyes, scowling. "Ah!" she cried after a moment. "I know just the thing. It's called a Nonsense Nugget."

"A what?" Malfoy's eyes crinkled in a _do-you-know-what-you-sound-like-right-now _kind of way.

"A Nonsense Nugget. It's a malleable substance that dissolves in liquid. Any person who ingests it will only hear nonsense coming out of people's mouths. Of course it's most effective if you can stick two pieces of the nugget inside the person's ears, but…"

"So, if I can get this inside someone's drink, and they drink it, then they would only hear me and whoever else was in the room say gibberish, no matter what we were actually saying?"

"That's correct."

Malfoy thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. A sneer slowly appeared on his face, and he said, "excellent. Get if for me."

Gwen ignored his rude tone and looked around for someone who could take over the register for her temporarily. Having done so, she began to make her way to a shelf currently surrounded by a group of eleven year olds. She had half hoped that Malfoy would wait at the counter for her to return, but instead he had followed her. She looked up at the shelves, searching for the Nuggets. They were higher up than she could reach, so she rapped purposefully on the wood of one of the shelf ledges twice. A second later, a ladder was speeding along its track that lined the upper wall at top speed. Having successfully scattered the eleven year olds, which caused Malfoy to snicker, the ladder came to rest in front of Gwen. Rolling it slightly more to the left, she began to climb. After twenty rungs, she stopped, searching with her fingers along the many colored boxes that held different practical joke goods: Baboon Bouncers, Lacing Hickles, Inked Marbles, aha! Nonsense Nuggets. "How many do you want," she yelled down at him.

He thought for a moment. "How long does one last?" Gwen looked at the plastic-wrapped, walnut sized blob in her hand.

"You can pull one Nugget into several pieces, but as with any potion or spell, the larger the dose, the more effective it is, you follow me?"

"Five, then," he yelled over the crowd and the distance between them.

She pulled out three and put them in one of the pockets of her magenta work robes, then pulled two more out of the box, put one in each hand, and made her way back down the ladder.

"Here you are, Mr. Malfoy." She handed him the five Nuggets. He didn't seem to think it was odd that she knew his name (must be used to special attention at shops, she thought), and grabbed them from her hand without a word. "Was there anything else you needed?" Gwen asked politely.

"No," he said. "This will do." He followed her back to the register, where Gwen relieved Jonathon of his temporary duty. Having paid for his purchase, Malfoy left without so much as a thank you.

For the remainder of her work hour, curiosity gnawed at Gwen. Why had Draco Malfoy, of all people, come into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes? Surely he wasn't going to play a prank on someone, unless You-Know-Who had suddenly developed a sense of humor. The thought made her grin. And didn't the Malfoy's hate the Weasleys? Didn't he know he had just given them business? She tried not to think about it. After all, it was none of her business. But there was no denying, it was strange.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling. _

Part 2

By the end of her shift, Gwen had managed to push the visit out of her mind. By seven o'clock, the shop had cleared significantly; no one wanted to risk being out after the newly placed curfew. With the death eaters in control, everything normal and good had been tainted with fear. Not a day went by when Gwen didn't see at least one masked, black-cloaked figure cross by the window of the Weasley's shop.

She changed from her magenta robes to street clothes: a button down blue shirt and jeans. She knew robes were more normal, but they could be such a hassle to get about in. Jeans were much more comfortable. Unlike many wizards, she knew how to behave in the muggle world, as she had spent much of her life living amongst non-wizarding folk. Her mother was a witch, but her father was a muggle. He found it all fascinating, so magic was still a big part of her upbringing. Living as she did, she had seen firsthand how the muggle world and the wizarding world could mix successfully. In fact, she felt that some muggle technology was useful, like the cell phone. She kept one on her person, even when she went to places like Diagon Alley (the reception was actually very good). In many ways, it could be said that she fit in better in the muggle world, based on appearances.

In the final weeks of summer, the evenings became quite cool, and, stepping out onto the streets of Diagon Alley, Gwen pulled on a light jacket. Having taken four steps in her desired direction, she thought better of it, and instead turned on the spot. One apparition later and a queasy stomach to go along with it, Gwen was in front of her house. It was nothing big, mind you; just a small, two-bedroom cottage in one of the wizarding villages about twenty miles out of the Alley. She shared it with her older brother, Jeremy, but he was away commercial fishing for giant squid legs as part of his job. Having the house all to herself, she quickly took a shower, got dressed in her coziest pajamas, and sat down for a dinner of leftover stew.

Despite having put the incident out of her mind, it resurfaced again the very next day, and the day after that, and for three days after those two, for Draco Malfoy returned to the store on and off throughout that week asking for this or that. He always wanted something specific, yet his descriptions of them were so vague that Gwen sometimes had a hard time satisfying his needs.

On Friday, she had reached lunch without catching a glimpse of Mr. Malfoy. It was just an ordinary day. She stocked, helped people find what they wanted, manned the register for a bit, stocked some more, went to lunch, swept the back room, took out the garbage. The same routine. Later in the day, around three in the afternoon, Gwen could be found cleaning up some love potion that had been spilt by a couple of girls fighting over a vial of the potent stuff. As a result of the fumes the potion let off, every male that passed by her stared at her as she cleaned. She herself was getting a bit overwhelmed, and had to leave the spot for fresh air every once in a while. When she had finally finished, the scent still lingered. For her, it smelled of summer rain and lemons.

Turning around, she saw Draco Malfoy not five feet away from her. He was looking at her, and when Gwen made eye contact and smiled, he approached sourly. "I have another request." Gwen nodded expectantly, wondering as she did so why he always sought her out instead of someone who wasn't already occupied, though the thought was hazy; she was still standing where the love potion had been, and she was finding it hard to concentrate on anything but the eyes of the boy in front of her. But Malfoy didn't tell her what he wanted right away. He was sniffing and looking at her in a funny way. "What smells like fire smoke and apples?" he asked. "Let's come over this way," Gwen suggested, leading him safely away from the spot, making a mental note to fix the problem of fumes later. Her head now thoroughly cleared, she asked what he had wanted.

"Yeah," he said, looking back at the spot they had just vacated, "Show me what you have in the way of distractions."

Gwen thought the love potion would make a pretty good one, but only if he wanted to make himself the distraction. "Is this a distraction for yourself or someone else?"

"Either, or both," he replied.

"We got something new in this morning that might be what you're looking for," she said, smiling with pleasure at her sudden revelation. The particular shelf she was looking for was in the back of the store; items that were less popular were put here. The crowd seemed intent on blocking her way and slowing her down. This and Malfoy walking so closely behind pushed her to force her way even harder through. Upon reaching her destination, she summoned the ladder. She didn't have as far up to go as before, and she knew exactly where what she wanted was situated. Six feet up, she reached her hand into a box of small, polka-dotted eggs, took out a handful, and put them in a small leather pouch that she had kept in her robes for just such occasions. Bag in hand, she descended the ladder rung by rung. She turned around when her foot touched the floor, ready to have the bag grabbed from her hand. Instead, when she turned around, the first thing she saw was Mafloy's face uncomfortably close to her own. The line of his mouth formed a smirk, and he gave her a look that spelled trouble. He had grabbed both sides of the ladder, making a cage around her with his arms. Despite her discomfort, Gwen noticed that his eyes were clouded. _Oh great_, she thought. _The love potion fumes must be addling his brain._ She looked around uncomfortably, then held up the bag, breaking his eye contact with her. This seemed to wake him up.

"What is it?" he asked, grabbing for the bag.

"This," Gwen replied, smoothly pulling them out of his reach and opening the bag in one motion, "is a bag full of Munching Moodlies."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" he said sarcastically, moving away from her to cross his arms.

"It means that when you use one of these, a swarm of small Moodlies will crawl around on the floor chasing anything it sees and eating people's shoes."

"What are…Moodlies?"

Gwen choked back a laugh. Hearing Malfoy say that word was almost too much. "I really couldn't tell you. I've never seen one myself. But I hear they can cause quite a ruckus."

"Do you recommend them, then?"

"I suppose so."

"Then I'll take it."

While she was a bit surprised that her recommendation should matter to him, she walked him up to the front and, taking charge of an unused register, rung up the bag. "That's sixteen knuts."

"You know," he said smoothly, giving her the money, "it just crossed my mind that I'm looking for something else."

"Oh yes?" Gwen was focused on putting the knuts in the money drawer.

"Yes." Malfoy leaned over the counter slightly, resting his lower arms on its surface. "I'm looking for someone to take to dinner and wondered if you might be able to help me. You've been so helpful with everything else."

Gwen stared at him for a moment. "Mr. Malfoy, I think perhaps you should step outside for a moment. To get some fresh air."

"Now why would I do that?"

"Well, it's just very stuffy in here," she fumbled. "Here's your bag of Munching Moodlies. Have a good day."

"Not so fast, I want an answer," he demanded. Gwen sighed inwardly.

"Mr. Malfoy," she began slowly, searching for the right words. "I'm excessively flattered, but I'm afraid I couldn't possibly."

"Why not?" he looked shocked, as though he had never been told no before.

"Well, I don't get off until very late. Too close to curfew to do anything but get right home. As I said, I'm incredibly flattered." She really wasn't, but in her mind flattery made rejection go down sweeter. After he got some fresh air in his lungs and cleared out whatever remained of the love potion's fumes, he would be alright. That he had been effected so much for so long by his brief exposure surprised Gwen. _It must effect men differently than it does women,_ she thought.

To her dismay, he wasn't going to give up easily. "When's your day off?"

"Draco Malfoy," she began speaking to him as his elder, which she was, "you don't want dinner with me. You want the night air. That will do you more good than a meal right now."

"What are you…"

"How 'bout this. Go home, get a good night's rest, and if you still want a date with me in, oh let's say, two day's time, I will have dinner with you. Is it a deal?"

He sneered. "Fine. I don't know why you think you can get out of it that way, but you'll see." He took his Moodlies and exited, leaving Gwen feeling awkward with herself. She took a deep breath, then removed her wand from her robes to deal with the fumes. Her sense of humor came to the rescue as she walked away from the counter. _Won't he feel foolish when he wakes up tomorrow._

Malfoy didn't show up the next day, which pleased Gwen immensely. She got a lot of work done. When the time came for her to leave for the day and she had changed into her street clothes, she went in search of her employers to say goodnight.

"Fred, George!" she yelled. One loud pop later and the twins stood right in front of her. "D'you need something?" they said together.

"No, I just wanted to let you know I was leaving."

"How did things go today," asked George. "Crowds been too much for you?" Fred pitched in.

"No, actually. I got a lot done. It helps that I didn't have Draco Malfoy coming in demanding things."

Fred and George looked at her suspiciously. "Draco Malfoy," said Fred. "In here?" finished George.

"Yes," confirmed Gwen, giving them an odd look. "Why?"

"You're saying Draco Malfoy came in here? What did he want?" asked George. "Did he buy anything?" asked Fred.

"Yeah, he's bought a lot over the course of the week."

"He's been in here more than once?" they cried together. "Listen," said Fred. "When Draco Malfoy comes into the shop…"

"…that's something we need to know about," finished George.

"Well, if he comes in again I'll let you guys know."

"No, no, no, no," they said, blocking her path. They looked around, then turned back to Gwen. "Follow us." They motioned for her to come with them.

They led her towards the back of the store and into their office. The gold walls and magenta carpet were a bit overwhelming. Gwen sat down in the chair, surveying the rest of the office. They had remodeled. The walls were lined with photos of famous mischief makers in wizarding history, as well as shelves full of experiments and ingredients that the twins were working on. The floor was riddled with random piles of the same thing, as well as a few cauldrons and vials. While George sound-proofed the door, Fred sat down behind the desk, opposite of Gwen. "We need to know what merchandise Malfoy bought," he said as George moved to stand next to him.

As confused as Gwen was, she tried to recall as much as she could: "Munching Moodlies, Halfrack-Crackbacks, Chunky Chew n' Spews, Nonsense Nuggets, um, Puking Pestruls, oh and Instant Dozers."

"That's everything?"

"Yes. I'm almost positive."

Fred and George glanced at each other and nodded. "He didn't happen to mention why he needed these particular items, did he?" asked George.

"No, why?"

"We need you…" said George,

"to find out what he's using them for…" said Fred,

"without him knowing that we want to know…"

"and without him getting suspicious."

"Suspicious about what?" Gwen's curiosity roared like a hungry bear. Fred and George came out from behind the desk: George from the left and Fred from the right. Coming to a halt right in front of her, they said "have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Gwen thought for a moment. "No." "Good," said Fred. "We wouldn't be doing our jobs right if everyone knew."

"The Order is a secret organization working against Vold-…" George thought better of this, "You-Know-Who. It was founded way back when he first showed up causing trouble, and it's been started up again…"

"It's been active for awhile now," chipped in Fred. "About, what would you say George? Two years?"

"Maybe more. I couldn't say. That's not important. What is important…"

"…Is that we need your help."

"Why do you need my help?"

"Draco Malfoy along with the rest of his family work for You-Know-Who," Fred explained. "You were at Hogwarts last year. You know first-hand that blonde prat is the reason Dumbledore is dead and Snape is now headmaster. Furthermore…"

"…you can't really have thought for a second Malfoy was buying those things to play a prank on someone." It's true. Gwen had been suspicious of his buying the items from the start. She felt uneasy. "Can't someone from the Order do it?"

"For one, neither of us can do it. The Malfoy's and the Weasley's don't exactly get along," said George.

"For another, you say he approached you each time he came in the shop, never anyone else as far as you know," Fred observed.

"That means he either trusts you more in some way, or he just wants as few people to know he was there as possible."

"Like nobody would have noticed him anyway. The Malfoys stick out like a sore thumb. A jet black thumb with a platinum blonde fingernail."

"Thank you for that charming image, Fred," Gwen smirked.

"The bottom line is," said George, "if anyone else asked him about it, he'd think it was odd and go on the defensive, whereas…"

"…if you asked him, it would be the most natural thing in the world."

Gwen leaned back in her chair, reflecting for a moment. "If he's using those items for something devious, as you no doubt believe, he would hardly tell me what he was up to."

"No harm in trying, is there?" remarked George.

"and anyway, who could lie to you, what with your natural charm," said Fred.

"Oh yeah. That's me alright." Gwen's sarcasm played with the sides of the twin's mouths.

Pretending to ignore what she had just said. Fred added, "besides, we're your employers…"

"…and we're telling you to." George finished this statement with a triumphant look on his face. Gwen sighed. There really wasn't any harm in asking. But who knows when she'd get the chance. She told them she would do it. "That's the spirit!" Then they whisked her out of the office and onto the street. Gwen only had thirty minutes to get home before curfew. As she disapparated, she laughed to herself. _It's too bad Malfoy's not getting his dinner date, _she thought. _That would have been an excellent opportunity._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling. _

Part 3

If Malfoy had still wanted to take Gwen to dinner, he would have to wait until Monday. Gwen took Sundays off. She had gotten into the habit of going to Muggle church a few years ago when she still went to Hogwarts. One Sunday, she had snuck into Hogsmeade and gotten lost. As she was trying to find her way, she heard singing. Following the sound, she came to the church, gone inside, and ended up staying through the service. She wasn't sure how she felt about Christianity, as it saw witchcraft as evil. Consequently, she had gone through a conflicted stage in her early teens, where she doubted herself and everything else in life. She had gotten past this, but she still wasn't sure what to think about her being a witch and the teachings of the church. She had made up her mind recently to study the matter for herself someday.

Fresh home and changed into her everyday clothes, Gwen gazed around the hallway, having just come down the stairs. Straight across from her was the dark oak door. A hat stand and small cabinet for boots and coats stood against the wall adjacent. There wasn't much room for anything else but doorways that led into the living room, study, and kitchen. Thinking of the kitchen brought food to Gwen's mind, which reminded her of a lunch date with a friend she had for that day.

Wanting to stretch her legs, Gwen had apparated just outside of the Alley, giving herself just enough time to walk to her destination: the Banshee, a new pub that had opened up not a few weeks before. On her way there, people who recognized her from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes greeted her in the form of nods or smiles. She was often surprised that people remembered her, but many did, or at least half of the hoard of people who visited the shop.

After Gwen rounded a corner, passing a man selling fly butter, cheese holes, and other cooking ingredients, the building came into sight. The large front window said "Banshee" and a pale image of a wild-haired woman moved to and fro underneath the letters, stopping now and then to scream at a passerby. She shrieked when Gwen opened the door. The smell of smoke mixed with alcohol hit her nostrils as a man and a woman assisted their stumbling friend out the door. The barman behind the counter filled people's orders while simultaneously listening to a tipsy woman explain that her son was a rich wizard explorer. Gwen looked around; a dark haired girl sat at a table on the other side of the room, waving to her. The two girls had been good friends in Hogwarts, though Rena had been in Hufflepuff.

They greeted each other, ordered two butterbeers, a soup for Gwen and a sandwich for Rena, and fell to talking. By the time their food was ready, Gwen had finished relating her experiences of the past week, including the part about the Order, though this she related in hushed tones.

"Draco Malfoy always was bad," Rena shook her head as she put her drink to her mouth. "I don't think you should get mixed up in this. It's none of your business and you don't need any more of Malfoy than you've already had."

Gwen stared at the table as she took a long sip. Rena continued, "It reeks of trouble. I can always tell. Was I ever wrong back at school?" Gwen admitted that she had very seldom been wrong. "That's right," the former Hufflepuff took a large bite of sandwich before continuing with her mouth full. "You have a future to forge. What happened to your wanting to be a nurse?" Gwen shrugged. "Changed your mind again? Well, that's alright. You're still young. There's lots of time." Rena's companion didn't respond, but took a spoonful of soup and looked up at her expectantly.

"You're not the only one who doesn't know what you're doing yet," she continued. "Jimmy Crinkeshield is living with his mum, so you're doing better than him at least." This was hardly encouraging. "Anyway, I got lucky. Getting a job in the ministry is a tough feat to accomplish these days, what with the recent takeover by You-Know-Who. And I'm only a secretary, mind you. You're lucky to even have a job these days."

Rena waited for Gwen to respond. When nothing came, Rena continued talking as though she had never stopped. "But you'll figure it out. Getting mixed up in politics and mutiny isn't going to help you do that. Best to just leave it be."

"Fred and George are my employers. I have to do what they say. And besides, it's only a harmless question. Malfoy never seemed especially bright, so it shouldn't be too hard."

"Hm. Well, I guess the thing to do, then, is ask your questions, get your answers, or lack thereof, and then go back to your life. They can't ask for more than that."

Gwen took another thoughtful sip from her cup, then said, studying the table, "for a long time I've been feeling pretty useless." She looked up at her friend. "I'm done sitting around with the excuse that I'm trying to figure my life out. I don't know what's going to come of this, but I feel like something is changing." Rena stared at her with her half-eaten sandwich in her hand. For once, she didn't say anything, but allowed Gwen to continue. "It might not amount to anything, and once I do what they ask, my life could go on just as it has been. But I don't know." A smile crept up to the side of Gwen's mouth. Her eyes took on a glimmer that hinted at the excitement she kept to herself. "I feel like this is important."

Rena laughed lightly, "if you say so, Gwen. You were never in Gryffindor, but if you get a thought in your head, I know there's not much what can stop your doing whatever it is you've got in there."

The smile that had stayed shyly at the side of her mouth now bloomed across Gwen's face. "Not that I don't appreciate your advice," she said. "But all the same, I'm glad you understand."

"I don't know about 'understand', but I'll support you in it, at least. This is just bad news, I know it."

The subject was dropped until the end of their lunch. Once outside the pub, after she recovered herself from the banshee screaming at her, Rena warned her friend to be careful. "I know it's just a question, but, like you said, it could lead to other things. Just watch yourself and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Gwen laughed. "Alright. I won't."

"Are you going right home?" Rena asked as she rifled through her purse for something.

"No, I thought I'd drop by Wizard's Wheezes to say a quick 'hullo' to the twins."

Rena brought a bottle of something triumphantly out of her bag. "They treat you right, don't they?"

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't they?"

"Just their reputation at school. I could see them being a pain in the bum." While Gwen smiled, the ex-Hufflepuff held out the bottle in her hand to the once Ravenclaw. "Here," she said. "This is a little something I whipped up for you."

Gwen took it from her. "What is it?"

"It's a potion I've been working on since before we graduated; my own recipe," she announced proudly. "I've got a big vat of it at home now. I call it Renaculum. Not very good, I know. I rather hate it myself, but the name is a work in progress."

"But what does it do?"

"When you drink it, you'll find that you can explain your way out of anything, whether you're making sense or not."

Gwen held up the vial filled with amber-colored liquid. "This truly is Rena-culum." They both giggled, remembering their days in school when Rena would get her friends out of trouble by confounding the professors with her impossibly confusing and long explanations. "More than half the time, even I didn't know what I was saying," she confessed.

With one last scream of the banshee, they parted ways, both sorry to see the other go. Gwen walked in the opposite direction as her friend, making her way to the colorful building in which she worked. Two flashes of red passed by the inside of the window. _There they are. _Once inside, she waved to the twins, who were holding up one of their latest creations in advertisement. They were surrounded by about twenty customers. A second later, they had popped up before her. "Didn't expect to see you here today," they said. "Haven't been talking with Malfoy, have you?"

"No, I haven't gotten the chance. Supposing he doesn't show his face again?"

"Oh, we have high hopes that he will," George said.

"Only the highest," chipped in Fred.

"What makes you so optimistic?"

"It can't hurt," they said. Gwen couldn't argue with that.

"Did you want something, by the way," Fred asked absently, looking over at the large crowd that had formed around the product they had just been showing off.

"No, I just wanted to say hi."

"Well, hullo," they both said, hurrying off in the direction of a crash from the back.

She decided not to head back home immediately, and instead exited the building and headed for the nearby newspaper stand. It had been a long time since she'd picked up a copy of the _Daily Prophet, _and she also wanted to pick up this months edition of _Challenges in Charming_. The stand stood somewhat neglected by its usual swarm of customers; the man behind the counter looked a bit tense, as well. Ignoring this, Gwen went up to the stand, picked up what she wanted, throwing in a _Quibbler_ for good measure, and brought out her purse. "Hullo, how are you today," she asked the man out of habit. "Oh," he seemed shocked. "I'm-I'm doing as well as anyone can these days."

"Isn't that the truth. I'm glad to hear it." She placed her purchases on the counter with her knuts. A glance at the man showed that his hands shook slightly as he put the money in the register. "Looks like you didn't have your morning pumpkin juice," Gwen said cheerfully. He looked at her confused, followed her eyes to his hands, and said, "oh. No. I've had the jitters for about a week. It's getting unsafe to sell the news anymore. And folks don't want to be seen buying it."

"Why's that?"

"That oughta be plain to see, yeah. With everything that's going on right now, the newspapers are being watched closely to make sure things aren't being printed that, uh…that certain groups don't want printed, if you catch my meaning."

"I think I do. Well, thank you, and good luck."

The newspaper confirmed what the man had said: much of what it contained was flippant and unimportant, or else it told of new laws that had been put in place that further infringed on freedoms, like curfews or off-limits areas.

The sky grew darker, signaling the coming rain. A few wizards hurried by, followed closely by their floating packages that no doubt contained their purchases from the day. A witch summoned a broom and flew off. It was only three in the afternoon, but it felt like people were already heading off to avoid the curfew. Gwen knew this wasn't the case, but it made her anxious. _It's just the rain,_ she told herself. As Rena had said, Gwen had never been a Gryffindor, and she always wished she were braver. Just to defy her cowardice, Gwen decided to walk around a bit before heading home. Then she would see; there was nothing to worry about. The grey stone of the buildings and cobblestone beneath her feet had gotten darker. She entered a narrow corridor between a row of shops, and had walked a ways in before she spotted a monkey in a box. "I knew it was good I didn't go home!" She ran to the clear box excitedly. The monkey inside hopped around amongst the assortment of candies. You didn't see many of these anymore. Monkeys in boxes had been used prevalently about a decade ago, when candy vendors had gone on strike. During the strike, a business-wizard had remarked in annoyance that selling candy was so easy that a monkey could do it, so they didn't need the vendors anyway. People had liked the idea, and so set up monkey boxes, where the small creatures would hand out candy to anyone who gave them a knut. The so-called perfect setup backfired when the monkeys went on strike themselves, keeping the knuts for themselves as payment for their hard work. The candy vendor strike didn't last long after that, and everything went back to the way it had been before. But some of the boxes can still be found, manned by monkeys who didn't want to give up their tiny shops.

Gwen remembered them from when she was a little girl, and hastily pulled out a knut to give to the tiny vendor. He stopped his hopping, holding out his hand in a very businesslike manner. Gwen reached her hand through a small opening and dropped her money into his hand. He took off his tattered hat and gave a low bow, coming up to reveal a candy in his hand. He gave it to her and went back to hopping. Feeling the candy a bit to make sure it wasn't melted, Gwen observed her purchase: Chocolate Bubbles. _This should be fun to eat, _she thought. While unscrewing the lid, she dropped the small bottle by mistake, and it rolled down the slightly elevated walk on which she stood. There was nothing to do but follow after it, which she did, listening as the monkey laughed at her from behind. Making hardly a sound, in defiance of the ruckus Gwen's feet were making, the bottle rolled underneath an old mailbox, unused since before owls became the chief source of message conveyance.

As she bent down, about to reach her hand into the depths of the no doubt dirty darkness, she simultaneously looked over where the narrow passage broadened onto a wider road and caught sight of a silver blonde head bobbing along above a black suit. She groaned. Why did this opportunity have to show itself now? She would have thought this inconvenient no matter when she had seen him, but nevertheless, she had hoped she would wait for him to enter the shop again. However, duty pulled her to her feet. On a second thought, she quickly bent down and retrieved the bubbles, then hastily exited the passage. One would think that the light would have gotten a bit brighter in comparison to the small alley, but if anything it got darker. The sun now had so many clouds between it and the earth that not a ray of sunshine reached down where Gwen stood. No sooner had the young woman realized this when the clouds gave themselves relief in torrents. _Why does it let down now when I need it least? _Charms had always been Gwen's forte, and she was never more thankful for the area of magic than now; she pulled out her wand and made a waterproof dome over her head. To anyone watching, it would have looked like she held a thin, curved sheet of ice over herself with her wand.

Visibility being decreased, Gwen could just see Draco Malfoy's dark form ahead of her, this time with an umbrella over his head. The matter of getting his attention without being obvious took furthermost priority in her mind as she walked in his direction. Simply going up and saying "hi" might make him suspicious or make her seem desperate, neither of which would do much good. She could simply walk past him. But that would be odd, since she knew him and hadn't said anything. It would be best, she decided, to let him make the first contact, make him approach her. It would make their meeting seem more like a coincidence, to him at least. If she could get in front of him without her seeing him, that would be ideal. She ended up pulling out her newspaper. With her wand held up, a package under her arm, and the newspaper in hand, she felt subconsciously awkward. She realized how unusual it was that she was attempting to read a newspaper in the rain, but she had been getting too close to Malfoy to waste any more time.

She went to the side of the cobblestone road opposite of where Malfoy was walking and quickened her stride, doing her best to actually ignore him so she could be genuinely surprised if he came up to her, as she hoped he would. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that she had passed him. Gwen continued her walk, her shoes making a loud noise on the walk. Theses two figures were the only apparent living souls on the street for the most part; a random witch or wizard would run by, covering his or her head, every once in awhile. Two minutes went by with Gwen walking a few feet ahead of Malfoy on the opposite side. _Maybe he doesn't recognize me, or even know I'm here for that matter? _Just then, a gust of wind came through the alley, blowing rain into Gwen's face while simultaneously causing her to tumble and almost lose her newspaper. On a whim, before the wind had stopped, she let go of her _Daily Prophet_, and it blew in front of her a little ways and to the side. Ideally, it would have blown right into Malfoy, but as it was it went behind him by a few feet. Gwen gritted her teeth in annoyance, running after it. Of course that wouldn't work, but it had been worth the try, she supposed. Wind had pinned the paper up against a building and she had to try a few times before her fingers managed to grasp it firmly enough to bring up. She looked forward where Malfoy had been walking. He wasn't moving anymore, but wasn't looking at her either. Instead, the wall on the opposite side of the street where Gwen had been walking now held his gaze. He stood there for a moment, while Gwen pretended to attempt refolding the paper. A moment later, he turned and walked purposefully up to the fumbling girl. She hadn't been expecting it, and was genuinely surprised when she stood up.

"What are you doing here?" he said unpleasantly and almost accusingly. It wasn't a question asked casually. Gwen gaped to cover her momentary panic. "I was…just coming from lunch with a friend when it started to rain. I," she laughed to calm her nerves and held up the copy of the Prophet, "was just trying to make the best of it."

"Well," he said and, unless Gwen was mistaken, relaxed a bit, "you shouldn't be here. Deserted streets tend to draw the worst sort of people." His eyes shifted around the area.

"I suppose so," she replied, trying to sound confused, as someone else might. "In that case, I suppose I should be on my way." She smiled and began to walk on. To her annoyance, he did not follow, but continued standing where he was, looking at the wall again. _Ugh. _Turning around, she said good naturedly, "by the way, that goes for you too."

He turned to her, scowling slightly. "What?"

"If deserted streets attract bad people, as you say, then why are you here? You should follow your own advice."

Malfoy turned his head away slightly, frowning, then looked back at her. "It's my business what I choose to do with my time and advice. I suggest you mind your own."

Gwen was more stressed than angry, though she pushed both emotions away to try and think. "I'm sorry," she said slowly, trying to sound hurt. "I'll…just go then. Have a good day, minding your business." She walked away, and he didn't make any attempts to stop her. While Gwen didn't want to give up, the delicacy of the matter was evident. Pushing too hard would ruin all her chances, and she felt she had already gone too far. Having thus made up her mind, she quickened her steps, trying to get away as fast as possible. She needed to think.

Five minutes of walking brought her to a circular courtyard where five roads connected. A statue of a long haired cat stood in the center, surrounded by benches. One of the owl's outstretched wings made a shaded spot where the rain could not reach, and Gwen ran over to it, sitting down and giving her wand arm a rest. The idea of home held no prospects for her; having this Malfoy business so fresh in her mind would ruin any refuge that might have been found there. Until she had planned what to do next, she would have no peace of mind.

Finally coming fully out of her thoughts, Gwen remembered the bottle of Chocolate Bubbles that she still held in her hand. Doing something helped her think better, so she took off the lid, put the round, chocolate covered wand to her mouth, and blew. Five shining, rich-brown, perfect circles flew out in front of her. She smiled mischievously before jumping after them, her mouth wide open.

Many minutes had past, and the young woman who had previously just been leaping around a rain-filled courtyard catching candied bubbles with her mouth had gotten no planning done. Gwen went back to where she had been before and stood, blowing one last giant bubble which she caught gently with her finger. The floating chocolate sphere reflected the falling rain. _Hm. Rain and chocolate. Chocolate and rain. The good must come with the bad. But who says rain is bad? _She looked at it from a different angle._ Water and chocolate. Is chocolate any less pure than the water? It has more calories. But it's just as good. Just different. _Her thoughts were interrupted by another reflection, bobbing along against the rain. She recognized the figure, even though it appeared as a brown blob with even blobbier features in the sphere. Not a second later, the reflection and the bubble both disappeared, replaced by a slightly chocolate covered finger. "You murdered it," Gwen said, mostly to herself. "It had it coming," said the sneering voice of Draco Malfoy. Gwen turned to him; he was just about to lick the chocolate from his finger, but, seeing her looking at him, he tore it away from his mouth and looked sour.

"I know how you feel about your business, so I won't ask how it went," Gwen said harshly.

"Not all of my business isn't your business."

"Like what, your pranking needs?" she said sarcastically, but she was half hopeful.

"No. Like dinner engagements that just you and I are invited to."

"Oh." Even the surprise surprised Gwen. "You still want to go to dinner with me?"

"Would tonight work?" He didn't try to act suave and he didn't sound excited. His tone implied that he was setting a date for a business meeting.

"Yes. Yes, tonight would work fine. Where?"

"The Magician's Mew. Around eight. I'll meet you inside." He disapparated as soon as he had finished his sentence, if it could be called that. Gwen ignored his rudeness in disapperating right in front of her without a word, and wondered why he had chosen that restaurant. It was fancy, but not fancy enough for the Malfoys. And it wasn't particularly well-known, tucked away behind a bunch of obscure shops in which hardly anyone entered. Gwen only knew it existed because her mother had been proposed to there by a wizard she didn't end up marrying. As she was disapperating, Gwen wondered what she should wear.

* * *

_I welcome any and all comments and critiques. Especially critiques. _


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling. _

Part 4

Summer allows the sun to stay up late, and, though clouds had covered it most of the day, it came out for one last hour before it had to light another part of the world. Gwen had been using this last bit of daylight to read before getting dressed for her date. The word sounded so strange; she hadn't been on one since she graduated from Hogwarts, and then it hadn't been as a means to obtaining possibly important information for a secret group intent on mutiny. She had never dated someone younger than herself either. Or so immature.

She had settled on something simple; no doubt he would be wearing a more dressed up version of his all-black suit from earlier that day. The wine red evening dress would do. It was simple, like she wanted; the skirt reached to just below her knees, and was made of a light, flowing material, while the top section was made of something like silk. It was all held up by two straps the width of three fingers. She slipped on some black sandals for good measure. _There, not too dressed up and not too dressed down. _She still had twenty minutes before eight o'clock, but she decided to get there a bit early.

One apparition later, she stood wearing a light jacket outside a row of shops. She didn't know exactly where the Magician's Mew was, but it resided in this general area. If she walked around enough, she was sure to find it, so long as she made sure to go down alleyways and any other unlikely place. At least the streets weren't deserted as they had been earlier; the place was uncommonly busy for being so late in the day. Curfew started at nine pm, so the crowds still had an hour and fifteen minutes, but usually they didn't flirt so closely with the time. Gwen suddenly felt subconscious in her outfit: a few people gave her sideways glances. Rather than stand around, Gwen approached a group of three wizards and a witch. "Excuse me, but I'm looking for the Magician's Mew. Could one of you point me in the right direction?"

"Well, it's that way," said the witch, pointing directly behind Gwen.

"No, no, Gezelda," said the portly wizard next to the woman. "I'm sure it's down a ways and to the right."

"You're both wrong," said a tall wizard standing behind them all. He looked at Gwen apologetically. "It went out of business a month ago. My cousin said he and a large group, most of them being frequent diners there, went looking for it and found the building had completely disappeared."

Gwen let out a quick breath, "are you sure?"

"I'm positive. Very sorry."

They walked on their way, leaving her. Gwen felt like a fool; of course Malfoy would stand her up, tell her to meet him someplace that didn't exist anymore. It was something he would do just to get back at her for prying into his affairs. So here she stood. For one thing, she had dressed up for no reason, and for another, she had gotten her hopes up about getting the answers the Order wanted. Her mother would be interested to know the restaurant had gone. As much as she wanted to stand where she was and just feel angry, she knew it would be better to take action. If she went home now, she wouldn't have gained anything. But what could she do?

Her heels clacked against the pavement as she walked aimlessly in the first direction she looked. It occurred to her that a newspaper stand stood not much further on, and while it didn't have much potential in the way of real information, she turned in that direction. Funnily enough, the same man whom Gwen had met the last time she bought a newspaper now sat behind the stall counter of this stand. "Hullo again," Gwen said, though not as cheerily as she thought she had. The stubble-faced man peered at her, seemed to recognize her, and nodded. "You're too dressed up to be just buyin' a newspaper. Wass you doin' here in that getup?"

"Oh, I," she mumbled, "was meeting someone and…I'm waiting."

"Sure, sure…you _were _goin' to buy a newspaper, wern' ya?"

"I hadn't decided. I wanted to ask you some questions, more like. For instance, who controls the news nowadays? And where can a person find out what's really going on? Or how about, is everything in the news tampered with now? Is there no shred of truth?"

"Those are bad questions to be askin', Missy." The newspaper man shifted uncomfortably. "Some of them questions you should be able to answer yourself, and as for the rest ob 'em, you should just forget it. Get on where you need to be. Go find whoever you're meetin'." He turned his back on her and refused to face her again. There was nothing more to do but move on.

Eight o'clock had yet to arrive, and Gwen thought she might just pop into one of the shops before heading home. She looked up at the sky framed by rooftops: the sun was setting now. Across the space flew a bird, a tiny moving speck across the darkening sky. It was only there for a second, but Gwen had seen so few birds lately that it was a welcome sight. Memories rose to the surface of her mind: a younger version of herself holding binoculars as her father pointed out different birds to match their various songs that sounded through the air around them. Isolating one from another was often difficult, but that had not been the point. It was a thrill, a sort of bloodless hunt that the young girl found exhilarating.

Her eyes returned to the cobblestone below just in time to see a blond-headed youth coming her way. Anger temporarily clouded her thoughts and sharpened her eye upon seeing Draco Malfoy until she realized that he had not stood her up as she thought, or so seemed to be the case. In accordance with Gwen's expectations, Malfoy wore almost exactly what he had been wearing earlier that day, with the slight difference of being a different shade of black. "Did you pick this spot to stand in for a reason," he said nasally. The look on his face would have meant he had smelled something bad if it had adorned someone else's face. On him it was a common expression.

"I was looking for this restaurant we're supposed to be going to," Gwen said, half pleasantly. She recalled that she had to get information out of this person, despite how much she disliked him at the present.

"You're not going to find it that way." He gave an aggravated sigh, "come on."

His stride left Gwen's far behind, and she struggled to keep up, thinking all the while that she would have liked to hex him with her wand, though she had never been particularly good with that kind of magic. "I hate to tell you," she said breathlessly behind him, "but the restaurant you're so keen on getting to went out of business a month ago."

"Where did you hear that nonsense," he drawled, as though talking to a child.

"If you must know," she began, but changed her tone in accordance with her needs, "a man on the street told me."

"He was wrong. Just follow me." He seemed to walk even faster, to the point that Gwen jogged to keep up with him. She was already quite sweaty when Draco made an abrupt turn down a space between two shops. He had to slow down in order to inch his way through, which gave Gwen time to catch her breath before sliding into the crevice after him. "I bet there are all sorts of bugs and dust in here," she thought. "I'm sure I look a fright anyway. A little dirt will just add to the country charm, I suppose." Despite her thought, she was hating Malfoy more every minute, blaming him for everything that she felt had already gone wrong. When a person wants to be angry, they'll use anything as an excuse. Her dress was dirty, her hair ruined, her pride wounded. She was sure she wouldn't get the information she needed. And it was all Draco Malfoy's fault.

They emerged from the hole to see an empty area, with only the backs of shops for scenery. On the ground was a tattered and water-damaged sign rotting on the ground, half hidden by a puddle. It read _Magician's Mew _in faded letters. "I told you it was gone," Gwen triumphed.

"Just what do you think a 'mew' is?" he said snidely, turning towards Gwen, who was confused by his question. "You didn't think "Magician's Mew" has anything to do with cats or meows did you?"

"I don't…"

"A mew is a hiding place. A secret nook. So a 'magician's mew' is a hideout for any wizard who wants to get away from it all. It 'went out of business' because it was too popular: too many people knew about it for it to be what it was meant to be. So now only the most exclusive members are allowed in." He said the last with slightly more pride in his voice, if that was possible. With his last words, he strode over to the puddle where the sign lay, dipped his wand into it, and said, "I seek the mew."

A whisper carried on the air said back to him, "you have found _me _where none shall find _you_." In the puddle, the reflection of a wooden building appeared, and presently the real thing followed to give the image meaning. For such a small area, it was large. Music hallooed through an open window on the second floor, and a couple sat on a balcony toasting each other. Malfoy stood up and threw her a look that said, "I told you so, fool," as he used his pants as a wipe for his wand. He at least had the decency to open the door for her on their way inside.

There were only a handful of people on the first floor of the mew, and they all seemed to blend in with their surroundings. No candles or lights of any other kind lit the tables, and the only illumination offered on this floor came from the four corners of the room where each held a floating bowl with a candle in its center, and high on the ceiling a slightly larger, frosted glass orb whose candlelight shone through palely. These lights together were just enough to see by, but not enough to offer much in the way of detail about the people in the room or the space itself. Steps to Gwen's right led up onto a wrap around landing that spanned the whole length of the room, and offered more poorly lit tables. These they went up, and took a table along the opposite wall they came in. Gwen could just see the door from here and wondered if Malfoy had picked this spot for its vantage point.

No sooner had they sat down when two black menus with white writing appeared in front of them. The two young people sat in silence, he just barely glancing at the words in front of him, she studying it with all her might. Malfoy tossed his menu on the table. "I'll just have the sausage surprise, like always." No sooner had it touched the table when the menu disappeared. Gwen guessed that they ordered by magic, something not done by most establishments. It must have been to give as much privacy as possible to diners. Mimicking what Malfoy had done, Gwen said what she would have, and her menu vanished as its partner had. Silence held much of the conversation for the better part of what must have been five minutes, in which time Malfoy made no attempt to help Gwen by offering things to talk about. In the middle of another awkward pause while she searched for something to say, Gwen's tablemate suddenly got up. "I need to use the restroom." And he walked off without a glance I her direction.

It was time to get her business done with so she could leave having made the date at least worthwhile in one aspect. She realized it had only been five minutes, and the food hadn't even come, but she needed to stick to topics that had outlets for pranks and, more to the point, what Draco wanted with the purchases he had made. She had not had a chance to think of anything else before Draco plopped down in his seat once more. "That was quick," Gwen said. "Didn't find it to your liking?"

"No, it was fine." Gwen froze before making another comment to watch the food arrive; it was currently floating up the stairs, and a moment later it had set itself down in front of the two. Gwen set to work again, "so, do you…"

"You know, sometimes I wonder if the decisions I've made have been for the best." Gwen was startled by this sudden breach of attitude. Not two minutes ago, he had been as close mouthed as an unset bear trap. He went on without waiting for her to respond. "Here all my life I've tried to please my father, but I'm beginning to wonder if that's not a lost cause." He snorted. "He's too wrapped up in what makes himself look good, so anything I do he just credits to himself, not to me." He paused and stared at the table sourly. Gwen searched desperately for something to say, but wasn't sure if she was supposed to know he was a death eater. It wasn't uncommon knowledge. "Maybe…the…things you've done to please him now will end up making your life better later."

"That's what I thought when I joined the side of the Dark Lord. That I could get some kind of glory for myself and end up doing something important. But I'm realizing that that's not going to work. Half the time I'm paralyzed with fear that I'll be killed or tortured, and the other half, when I do get a chance to do something important, it either blows up in my face, or my father takes credit to get our family back into the Dark Lord's good graces. But I don't see any way to get out of it."

Gwen was shocked; Draco Malfoy regretting? It wasn't guilt, but it was close, in some sense. "You make your own choices, Draco. No one can make them for you."

"Have you been listening?" he growled. "If I don't do as I'm told, I'll be punished. I'm not given a choice. You wouldn't do any different in my place." Gwen thought to herself that she wouldn't have joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the first place, but kept silent, taking a bite of her food instead. His food lay neglected on the table. He sighed. "I wonder what things would have been like if I'd done things differently."

"That's not something anyone could know. Not unless you went back in time and changed things. But I don't think time travel works so simply." A moment passed in which Gwen thought he must have been thinking about what she said, then he laughed. He didn't explain this, but instead jumped up. "I have to use the restroom again." He started to walk away. "What, didn't get the job done the first time?" Gwen teased. Malfoy turned and smiled, the first actual smile she'd ever seen on his face. It was still full of arrogance, but empty of contempt. After he left her for the second time, she sat thinking about what he had said. It was strange to think of Draco as anything but bad. But then, he hadn't said he regretted that he had done bad things, just that the path he was on hadn't gotten him what he wanted: glory and a feeling of importance, other than the one that came from being a Malfoy. Whatever his motives were, and whatever he was thinking, it wasn't what she wanted to know. It did make her more interested in the reason he was in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Did it have to do with being a death eater? Or trying to get out?

Half of Gwen's food was gone by the time Draco came back. "A fruitful outing, this time?" He gave her a sour, aggravated look and sat down. Silence fell as he took to eating. After a moment, Gwen said, "you know, wouldn't it be worth the punishment to make your own choice when given an order? To do what you think is right?"

He glared at her. "What are you talking about? I'm sure it's none of your business anyway." Now Gwen was confused. Hadn't he just made her a part of his business by confiding in her? It wasn't worth chasing after. She changed subjects. "So, do you enjoy playing pranks on people?"

"What?"

"You bought all those things in the shop, so I wondered if you like pranking people?"

"Oh. Yes. I enjoy pranking people." He wasn't going to make it easy.

"What would you say was your greatest achievement?" If he was a real prankster, this question would be easy.

He put down his fork. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it."

"Oh, come come. You have to have one that you're most proud of."

He gave an exasperated sigh before saying, his mouth full of food, "alright, I don't enjoy pranking people. I enjoy bullying. That's it."

"Then what did you buy them for?"

"I felt like it, that's all." That was not an answer. Gwen stayed silent while she ate.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to use the loo. It's downstairs, isn't it?" He nodded. Gwen walked down the stairs as noiselessly as she could, which was easy in the mew. Sound doesn't carry very far there, no matter how much noise you make. She headed towards the bathroom, then made a left towards the bar. The man behind the counter looked at her expectantly. "Could you send up two glasses of Firewhiskey to my table after we're done with dinner?" He looked at her skeptically. "We're both seventeen or over," she assured him. She wasn't sure about Malfoy, but it was worth a shot.

"Alright," he said, not satisfied, "but you know we magically enforce the drinking age."

"Of course. Thank you very much." She smiled at him, then headed for the bathroom, actually going in this time. She smoothed her hair and washed her hands before heading back to the table where Draco had finished his meal and was using his wand to make a napkin float. He looked almost charming when he looked up at her arrival. His initial look was quickly replaced by a more arrogant one as Gwen sat down, the napkin coming down with her. The music around them, the only sound that went more than a few feet in the mew, was old love songs from the 1940's, sung by a wizard who had been very famous at the time, Freddie Bottomtop. "It's funny how music can change so dramatically over time," she commented. It was more for her own benefit than his.

"I don't see that it's so strange," he snarled.

"I mean, why does it change? Do culture's tastes change? Or is it just musicians trying new things and their audiences have to adapt?"

The question seemed to confuse him; with a light shake of the head, he seemed to dismiss himself from thinking about it any longer. "Why does it matter?"

"It's just interesting. And as a study of human character, it's important. Why do we do what we do and why we've changed, what made us change. It all comes together to understand why we do what we do now."

"Important to you, maybe, but I don't see that it's very interesting."

"What does interest you then?"

The look on his face made Gwen expect to hear another speech on, "it's none of your business," but he must have thought this an unimportant question, for he answered her. "I don't really do much anymore."

"It doesn't have to be something you do. What do you think about that's interesting? What do you like to talk about?"

"My own business, I suppose," he sounded out bitterly. "My own plans fascinate me, I guess."

"Nothing else?"

He seemed to think. "Political talk, maybe. That can be interesting. Like back when Umbridge made the Inquisitorial Squad. It wasn't really talk, but it dealt with enforcing power. I got a lot of good tidbits for my own store of knowledge. Might give me an edge later on."

_So_, Gwen thought_, he likes to talk about himself, and he likes anything that can get him ahead in life. Charming. I'm sure he must also think it's interesting to talk about other people, judging them._

A moment later two glasses floated to their table. "What's this?" Malfoy looked untrustingly at the drink in front of him.

"It's Firewhiskey," Gwen said nonchalantly. "I thought it might be fun to have a glass or two after the meal. It's a bit strong, but…you _can _hold your drink, can't you?" Draco scowled. "Of…course I can. I drink it all the time." He picked up his drink, a bit hastily, Gwen thought, and took a small sip. When he swallowed, his whole face turned red, and he coughed violently. Gwen held back a laugh. The drink had held to its name. She could only imagine the burning sensation in his throat. She had never tasted the stuff before, nor did she want to; it was too strong a drink for her. While Draco recovered himself on his first taste of Firewhiskey, Gwen pulled her wand out of her purse from underneath the table, and, using her thoughts to make the spell (a very handy trick that she didn't like to use for its inaccuracy), she turned her drink into water. Hopefully Malfoy wouldn't notice the color change; he had only just recovered himself.

"I thought you said you could hold your whiskey," she said in mock confusion.

He glared again, "it's been (cough) awhile." He paused before taking another drink, deeper this time.

Thirty minutes and five Firewhiskeys later, Draco Malfoy was falling all over his chair, telling the picture on the wall that it was very ugly, and, as far as Gwen could tell, feeling especially good.

"I really don't like that picture," he said for the fourth time. "It's very poorly done. Why, no ship looks like that. No ship…No ship has two captain's quarters and three anchors. Do they?" Gwen didn't say anything, but took a sip of her water. He collapsed his arms on the table and stared at her. "You know, you're not very pretty."

Gwen raised her eyebrow at him. "Oh, don't give me that look! I'm only saying. You don't look bad, don't worry yourself. You look fine. You're just not who I'd be seen with, I'll tell you that…But I have been seen with you, haven't I? Well that's jolly well great! But you do grow on a person. So…if a…picture of you was put up everywhere, and everyone saw you all the time, you'd grow on them too. Then I could be seen with you." He nodded his head in agreement with himself. "That would do it. Just about."

"You jumped pretty quick to ask me on this date," Gwen said, four parts humored and one part insulted.

"Now that was strange. I don't know what happened with that. I woke up the next morning and wondered why I'd done it. But then, I knew you didn't want to go out with me, or seemed not to, so I decided that I had to. I didn't like you for it, oh no. No I did not. But pride! I had to make you suffer," he put out his hands in a tada sort of show, "and so I have!"

Gwen had had enough. It was time for her to get the information she needed. "You know, you never would have gotten into this mess if you hadn't gone into the joke shop."

He thought for a moment, scowling deeply at his empty glasses. "Yes," he said over-seriously. "You are right about that." Nothing more came. Gwen prompted, "what did you buy all those things for, anyway?"

With a wag of the finger and a wink of the eye, he said, "ah, now now!" He tapped his nose. "That's none of your business. I have a right to buy what I please where I please. Those red-headed idiots didn't want me in their shop, so what better place to go than there for my needs! It's ideal! Because you know, no one knows what I'm going to do, no they don't. Not Bellatrix, not the Dark Lord. Not even," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "my father!" He giggled to himself as he raised one of the empty glasses to his face.

"You're just showing off. You don't really have a plan."

"Oh yes I do," he cried indignantly, plopping the glass down on the table. "It's a very good plan!"

"You won't even tell me what it is, so you probably don't have one. And you won't prove to me otherwise until I hear it."

"If you must know, I'm going to find the fastest broomstick in the world! The Mooncatcher. Then," he lowered his face till his eyes were level with the table and stared at his napkin, "I'll catch Harry Potter. He won't be able to outrace me, and I'll hex him and tie him up and take him to my father. Who will take him to the Dark Lord, who will laugh at him and do horrible things to him, and then! I'll be famous." He leaned back and sighed, deeply contented, then sat there and glared at the table for awhile, Gwen all the while sipping her water. His plan was riddled with flaws: Harry Potter could disapperate before Malfoy caught him, he could fling him off his broomstick with a flick of his wand, or simply duck into a building. Its biggest flaw lay in that its success depended on Malfoy's knowing where he was, and nobody knew that. For two weeks not a soul had seen him anywhere, and this pattern of "not knowing" didn't look like it was going to be broken anytime soon. The plan was so likely to fail that Gwen felt sorry for Draco; he was so dependent on other people for his own success that it was pitiable. She didn't say anything to him, which he didn't seem to notice or mind. Shortly, a piece of paper wafted up the stairs towards them: the bill. Draco snatched it up. "I'll get it!"

"I'll pay for my food, you have enough to pay for with those drinks you ordered."

"No, I'll pay for it!" He grabbed the paper away from her, though she had made no move for it, and almost fell out of his seat as he did so. "You rait wight here and I'll be back." While he stumbled off to pay for their meal, Gwen took out her purse to look at her watch. No sooner had she glanced at the dials when she gasped, smacking her head in disbelief; it was a good hour past curfew! What would she do?

Her worries were interrupted by the man from the bar downstairs. "You'd better come get your friend," he said. "He passed out before I could get him his change."

The necessity for hurry had long since passed, and she walked down the stairs with the barman behind her. "There's no lock on apparition here, is there?" she asked him on their way down.

"I'm afraid there is," he replied. "We can't have people apparating in here without meaning to and finding the place by chance, can we?"

"No, I suppose you can't." They had reached the ground floor, where Draco's slumped over figure could be seen at the bar counter. A few diners were looking at him and using him as the butt of jokes, though they couldn't be heard. As she approached the counter, the barman told her to wait so he could get her the change to give to Draco later. While he went to fetch the money, Draco lifted his head lazily. "Gwen, Gwen, Gwen. What ever shall you do now?" The very thought had already voiced itself in her head. "I suppose I shall have to take you somewhere where you won't make trouble." There were inns she could set him up in, though whether or not she could get to one without being caught by death eaters was another matter.

The change in her purse, Gwen patted Draco a few times on the face to rouse him, succeeding only partially before hoisting him to his feet. He could hardly support himself, so she placed his arm over her shoulders and half walked, half dragged him to the door.

The fresh air seemed to do more good to Malfoy than any amount magic might have done. He became more awake, and seemed more aware of a pain in his head, which he made known every few steps. "What happened to the restaurant?" he whined. "Why aren't we eating anymore?"

"The restaurant disappeared," Gwen replied, for it had indeed vanished as soon as they exited the door.

"Well that's funny." He was thoughtful for a moment. "Gwen, why does my head hurt? It hurts! Make it stop."

"I can't make it stop, you'll have to get a good night's rest."

"I'm not tired, my head hurts!"

"Shh," she whispered harshly. "It's past curfew. Keep it down. Do you want the death eaters to catch us?"

"Oh I don't have to worry about that. I'm a death eater. In fact, I could arrest you if I wanted. Lucky you, I don't feel like it now, because my head hurts!" Gwen gritted her teeth and focused on where she was going. They weren't too far from an inn. It was just a few blocks away, but she had to check at every corner to make sure there was no one about. They had had good luck so far, but Draco kept talking and complaining, making the going even slower. "I'll be going to school in about a week, you know. My last year! It should be an interesting one too. I'll be sure to get some respect this time around. You know who's headmaster now, don't you? Hm? It's Serverus Snape! Didn't expect that, now did you. Do you want to know what I want to be after I graduate?"

"What," Gwen grunted, dragging him further. He was hardly helping at all.

"I want to be Minister of Magic. I know, I know. The Dark Lord is in control now, but he still needs someone to help run things, and why not me? Why, once I complete my mission, I'll be his right hand man. I'm telling you…" He went on and on for awhile before complaining about his head and finally falling silent. The only noise he made after that was an occasional moan.

Gwen had just checked round a corner close to their destination, and was making her way round it when two figures in black robes appeared from an alleyway across from them. Staying still seemed to be a better course of action than making a run for it, which was quite impossible anyway with Draco still hanging on to her, unless she dropped him, which her conscience forbid. Luck seemed to have a distaste for Gwen tonight, for the figures looked their way and walked quickly over to them, drawing their wands as they did so. Gwen grimaced in the dark, but didn't move. "Good evening," she said, as cheerfully as she could. She wished she had Rena's potion with her, or Rena herself.

"Evening? How long ago do you figure 'evening' was, Tom," said one death eater to the other.

"Oh hours ago," Tom said spitefully. "Do you know what time it is?" He directed the last towards Gwen, not bothering with the useless figure beside her.

"Well, you see, my friend here…" Before Gwen could finish her sentence, Draco suddenly popped up his head.

"It's alright fellas," he slurred. "She's with me!"

"And who are you?" The anonymous death eater lifted his wand to Draco's face and lit its end.

"It's Malfoy's kid," said Tom, sounding amused.

"That's right," said Draco proudly, attempting to hold himself on his own feet. Gwen was impressed that he could stand by himself, however unstably it was done. "I'm Draco Malfoy. Let us pass!"

"You can go, but she is coming with us." Draco walked uselessly over to the figures and stood between them, staring stupidly at Gwen, who glared at him. The two older death eaters started for her, and she, in a desperate attempt to save herself, reached for the thing most accessible to her: her cell phone. The two men stopped to stare at it curiously. Taking this momentary pause to her advantage, Gwen struggled out, "s-stay back! This…is a bomb!" She tossed it between herself and them. "If you come another step closer, it will explode!" They were stunned for a moment before Tom pointed his wand at it. "Avada Kadavra!"

The green light flashed, and Gwen flew down the alley from which she had just come. The loss of her cell phone was lamentable, but she, at least, had a chance. She heard them yelling back on the road, just barely catching a moan from Draco, and she ran faster, grateful that she had not worn heels. Her attempt at disapparition had failed; she surmised that one of the death eaters had cast some sort of spell making it impossible. Not having a drunken seventeen year old to drag around, Gwen made very good time, all the way through the crevice between two shops and back to the empty area where the Magician's Mew stood invisible. The puddle stood still and calm, until Gwen disturbed it with the tip of her wand. _Please work! _she thought, before she realized that she didn't remember what Draco had said. It seemed, however, that she didn't need it, for the building appeared a moment later. She didn't think twice before running into it, hearing heavy footfall in the street on the other side of the crevice. The door closed behind her. The muted stillness of the place settled suddenly down on her as it had before, especially now that the place was nearly empty. There was only one other person there: the bartender, who sat wiping glasses as he eyed her from behind the counter. The lights were even dimmer than before. Gwen tried to listen at the door for any signs of her pursuers, but she could hear nothing. Having nothing better to do while she waited, she walked slowly and dazedly up to the counter. "Have a little run in with the law?" he asked as though inquiring about someone's day.

"How did I get in? I thought it was an exclusive club?"

"How do you think the members gain entrance? They inherit? No, our members found this place by accident when they needed a place to hide. And that's the only reason you got in. It wouldn't have worked if you'd said the password, because you weren't a member. But you are now. Stay here for a bit. They'll be gone soon enough." Gwen was too relieved for words. The barman smiled to himself and went back to his wiping, leaving Gwen to go where she pleased. She decided to go up on the balcony to the table she had eaten dinner at with Draco, to have a clear view of the door. She rested her elbows on the table and placed her head in her hands to think. Not long after, a soft clunk sounded on the table in front of her and, opening her eyes, she saw a glass of what looked like Butterbeer sitting in front of her. Attached to the rim was a note that read: on the house. It was drunk gratefully.

"You weren't so thirsty earlier." An arrogant voice had sounded behind her. Wheeling around in shock and aggravation, Gwen looked on the smug figure of Draco Malfoy standing without a hint of the intoxication that he had only minutes before displayed. A second thought made her panic. He must have led Tom and his partner right to her. "You filthy traitor," she cried, jumping up. He grabbed her arm and forced her to sit down again, taking the seat opposite her.

"Don't worry yourself," he assured her. "They're not here."

"And I'm here with no thanks to you! Were you only faking drunk so you'd have an excuse for your not helping me? I suppose you'll tell me your still drunk. Well, thanks for your help, because I definitely could have used it!" He just sat there and smirked while she ranted, which only gave her anger excuse to grow. "I carried you all that way, and what did you do? You went over and stood with them! Well, I'll tell you, I'm done with you!" She paused to breathe.

Draco smirked deeper. Her wrath was overcome by curiosity and confusion. "Why _aren't_ you drunk now? And why are you here talking to me?"

He gave her one long stare before opening his mouth. "I'm not Draco Malfoy."


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: The world of the Harry Potter stories is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling._

Part 5

Gwen's eyes unfocused. She blinked twice, and stared at the wizard before her, "what?"

He stressed each word carefully, "I-am-not-Draco-Malfoy."

"Who are you supposed to be then," she asked, leaning forward.

He mimicked her and placed his elbows on the table before him, "I'm Harry Potter."

Again, she stared, then covered her mouth when a guffaw escaped her throat. "I'm glad to meet you Mr. Potter," she said, recovering herself. "Have you met my mother? She's You-Know-Who's wife."

"I didn't think you'd believe me."

"And why would I?" Gwen grew serious quickly. "It's ridiculous!"

"Not so much as you might think. Consider for a moment," he stood up and began to walk towards her, "how easy it would be. And how convenient a disguise!" He froze, glanced at her with his (or Draco Malfoy's) icy eyes. "If you'd allow me?"

Gwen pursed her lips and blew a quick stream of air out her nose. "Fine." At this signal, Harry Malfoy began to pace slowly, one arm behind his back.

"When I disappeared earlier this summer, I had no idea what to do or where to go. I spent weeks wandering aimlessly, doing what I could to keep low and out of sight. However, I wasn't going to get anything done that way, I knew. So I came up with a plan. Albeit, a simple plan." He walked over to his chair and abruptly sat down with a thump, startling Gwen. "Draco Malfoy is somewhat useless at the moment. It's no use denying it."

"Why would anyone deny it? It's common knowledge," Gwen snarked.

The wizard crossed his arms and leered, "would you let me get on, please?" She nodded. He relaxed and continued.

"So, my thought was, why not put him to some use. If I could convince him to join the good fight, the Order's side, then we'd have someone on the very inner circle. Someone who would never be suspected for the mere fact of, let's face it, his pointlessness!"

"I face that reality every day that I come into contact with him," Gwen interrupted.

"Would you mind?" Dra-Potter scowled. The young witch blinked. "Now, having made up my mind to set about converting Malfoy to my side of things, I wondered how best to do it. I had the notion that looking like him might be a good start, both for gathering information and in performing actions for the good of the Order. So I followed him…"

"And how would you have found him without being seen yourself?"

He severely replied, "It wasn't especially difficult. He doesn't exactly make a secret about where he is. He rather prides himself on his own business, so I only had to follow the trail of 'comments' he leaves in his wake. 'You'll never guess who came in my shop today,' 'I sold five new dressing robes to Mr. Malfoy today,' 'I've never seen such a pompous young man,' As for remaining unseen, I drank polyjuice potion using various persons hair on my way. When I had caught up with him, I began collecting what DNA I could. I have a fine collection of Malfoy hair now, if you'd like to see."

"No thank you."

"Anyway, that is how I am as you see me. It doesn't really help me convert him, however. So I had to wait and watch. If I could find someone whom he could naturally gravitate to, then I could try and reach that person. That person, as it turns out, was you."

"Naturally gravitate?" Gwen squinted at him. "There's nothing gravitational about me."

"You might not think so, but for some reason, whether by chance, fate, or whatever you want to call it, Malfoy kept coming back to that store. He kept asking for you, and finally I broke the love potion display, hoping it would get him more attached to you."

"Okay, alright, before you go on any further, how do I even know you are Harry Potter really?"

He pursed his lips. "I understand your concern. I know for a fact that you've been asked to help the Order. Who could possibly know that except someone from the inside?"

"Maybe you can read my mind."

"You would know if I was reading your mind. You can feel it. Believe me, I've had enough experience with Legilimency and Occlumency to know."

"There are any number of ways you could have found it out. You could have spies inside."

"Of course any of those things are POSSIBLE. But what if I am Harry Potter? What would you do?"

Gwen paused. "I would have to trust you, I suppose."

"Of course you would. And the only reason you don't trust me is because your eyes don't give you any reason to do so."

"Are you going to show me what you look like once the effect of the potion has worn off?"

"Are you mad? We're in public, I wouldn't compromise my position. No, but even if I'm not Harry Potter, why would I want you to convert Malfoy to the good side, our side, if I was helping You-Know-Who?"

"The real Harry Potter would have said his actual name."

"You know as well as I do that there's been a trace put on the name. If I said it they'd be able to find me. How else can I prove to you that I'm Harry Potter? I really can't within reason."

"You'll have to show me."

"Show you?"

"Yes. And much of that is something time will have to tell. But I can give you a Potter quiz…that is," she mentally slapped herself for how stupid that must have sounded, "I can test you."

"I could be lying."

Gwen gave a slight smile. "There's something in the muggle world called a lie-detecting. My dad is a policeman and he studied it. He told me about some of the techniques and things to look out for."

"Maybe I'm a good liar."

"We'll see." She narrowed her eyes, now fully alert and ready for any sign of falsehood. She racked her brains for any information she could think of, but she knew she was at a disadvantage. Anything she might know about Harry Potter was common knowledge.

"By the way," he said. "You don't actually think I'm Draco Malfoy do you?"

"No," she said after a brief moment. "No I don't. If you were the real Draco, you'd be heavily intoxicated right now. Unless the fool I saw stumbling all over himself wasn't Malfoy either." Draco Potter crossed his arms and scowled before continuing.

"So you didn't think it was at all odd when Malfoy went to the bathroom and came back spewing about his father and his questioning past decisions."

Gwen had forgotten about that. "That was strange. From all my observations, I've never seen Malfoy as the two-dimensional type. That was you?" He nodded with a scowl. "That doesn't help your case," she said. "It just helps solidify what I already knew: that you aren't Malfoy. It doesn't mean you're Potter."

"Fair enough. Ask your questions."

She thought for a moment. "Would it be possible to have this interview at a different time? I need to think up some real questions."

"We'll have to meet somewhere. And it can't be right away. It takes planning to make sure no one knows Draco Malfoy is in two places at once." He smirked, apparently pleased with the thought of his strategizing. He leaned across the table, motioning for her to do so as well. When they were close, he whispered in her ear, though Gwen didn't know why he bothered in that building where the air seemed to smother all sound. "I'll drop you an owl when you least expect it." With that, he leapt up and walked quickly away.

Slightly annoyed by how much her life had been taken over by secrets not her own, Gwen sat, feeling helpless. How had her life been so consumed by other people who concealed so much from her and yet expected her to help them? Suddenly, Gwen realized the mess she was in. It was hours passed curfew and there were two death eaters looking for her. She leapt up on the off chance that she could get Harry Malfoy—or Draco Potter—whoever he was, to help her. A quick lean over the balcony told her that he was nowhere in sight. Suddenly mentally exhausted, Gwen plopped dejected into her chair. Now what?

A dark orb suddenly floated up over the balcony right next to Gwen's table, startling her. A dim image of the bartender's face appeared in the dark mass, stared straight at the witch, and said somewhat bothered, "I hate to push anyone out, but I have to sleep sometime. There's no immediate danger outside, so I'll have to ask you to leave."

Before Gwen had time to respond, the orb flew back down to the main area. One thing she knew at least: the coast was clear for the moment. If she went outside, maybe she could think more clearly actually seeing what she had to work with. She knew they were probably still looking for her; it would be tough. But she might be able to make it if she could get out of the apparition lock that pervaded the area.

As she walked down the stairs towards the door, Gwen felt the bannister under her hand; the mahogany soothed her anxiety for the brief descent. Then she reached the door. Her wits left her as she placed her fingers on the doorknob.

The area outside, as the bartender had said, was clear, and no human sound could be heard once Gwen shut the door. The sky had cleared, leaving the starts without cover and giving her some small light to see by. As Gwen took a step, the building behind her vanished, and a wind moistened with the recent rain filled the area. The witch gripped her bare arms—now to find a way out. The crack between buildings lay at the opposite corner of the yard; she though it hardly wise to wander the main streets. By the dim light she could see by, Gwen observed a few doors, back entrances to shops, some of which were more rundown than others.

Walking as quietly as she could, in case she should awaken anyone in the buildings or alert nearby death eaters, Gwen gently tried each door. Luck, or fate, must have been trying to teach her a lesson that night, for not one of the doors budged. As much as she didn't want to break-and-enter, the witch felt she was justified; it was a matter of self-defense: "Besides, I'm almost a spy. I might as well act like it." With this thought she removed her wand from her purse and walked over to the oldest, most decrepit door. Somehow, its ratty appearance eased her conscience in picking the door's lock. "Alohomora." She heard a soft click and pushed the door in gently.

A puff of dust met her as she stepped inside and shut the door. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Gwen noticed a dim bluish hue pervading the room, perhaps the moon showing through a window somewhere. Crates and books littered the floor and shelves. Was she in Flourish and Blotts? The large store room seemed to have been neglected by everything but mice, as she saw two scuttle across the floor, leaving little footprints in the dust. Gwen lit her wand and scrutinized the nearest pile of books. Some appeared to be early editions of textbooks she remembered using at Hogwarts. Others bore titles she had never heard of by people she might easily forget. She couldn't understand the use of some, like _Wizard Fashion through the Ages, _by Esmerelda Tassle, or _How Not to Make Butterbeer, _by A.C. Crumpetcatcher. Others looked halfway interesting: _The Wandering Witch, a Novel _by Tom Pushkin, _Tears and Their Uses,_ Timothy Waterfellow, or _Hidden Treasures_, Zelda Worthgood. She picked up a dusty volume: _Magical Myths_. The author's name was so faded she could hardly make it out. "Horatius Rentpole—no Rimpot—Rimpol. Horatius Rimpol." Turning the pages tenderly, as the cover almost fell off, she perused the table of Contents:

_Contents_

_Introduction_

_The Author and His Travels_

_Warning_

_Chapter One- Where Magic Began_

_20 Chapter Two-Mythical Magical Creatures_

_27 Chapter Three-Foreign Myths_

_42 Chapter Four-Do They Exist? And If So, What Are They?_

_50 Chapter Five-To Bring the Dead to Life_

_57 Chapter Six-Magic within Magic_

_66 Chapter Seven-Sacrifice_

She turned eagerly to page iii. Why would a book on myths need a warning? The page had only a few lines:

_To whomever reads this: _

_While the legends of the wizarding world are fascinating, know that delving too deep can be dangerous. The line between reality and myth can blur easily. There is so much that we don't know or understand. You start to ask how and why and you can get lost. Sometimes there isn't a reason. Sometimes belief and faith are all we have. _

"I'll keep that in mind," Gwen chuckled. She turned through the pages, glancing at each one in turn. A picture of a bottle caught her eye in chapter four under the heading "Genies."

"_Records of genies first emerged from Islamic teachings. According to the religion's holy book, the Quran, genies are one of three sentient beings created by Allah, along with humans and angels. Genies, like humans, can be good, bad or neutral, but, unlike humans, possess magical abilities. Genies and their magical lamps have long since been the subject of modern tales and adventures. However, their existence is debated amongst veneficologists*._

_While reports of strange lamps and wish granting beings have been made since the emergence of the stories, no outstanding proof has ever been found. This does not stop the theories. The most traditional and commonly held view holds to the religious origins: genies as a sentient species being very good at both magic and hiding. Others speculate that they are a kind of boggart that seeks to take on the form of a person's greatest wish rather than his or her greatest fear. More obscure theories speculate that genies are the patroni of wizards trapped inside vessels, or even the essences of wizards themselves magically preserved for centuries."_

As she read, the picture of the bottle had changed: an oddly shaped man had floated out of the opening and was swirling around the corners of the page. Gwen remembered her younger days, hearing stories about Arabia and India where genies made princes out of paupers. They were as legendary in the muggle world as in the wizard world.

The sixth chapter, Magic within Magic, used a lot of big words, talking about various subjects like the nature of the relationship between wand and wizard, and something called the "extra-magical" in our world. This she couldn't understand, though it gave a reference to another book as well as the chapter on sacrifice. She figured this chapter might be bloodier than she'd like, so she shut the book, thinking she might look up "extra-magical" later. The task at hand was more important, and she hadn't meant to waste so much time.

As quietly as she could, Gwen picked her way over books and around boxes until she had reached the door on the opposite end. It was locked, of course, so she once again brought out her wand, "Alohomora." The lock wouldn't budge. "Great," she muttered. "Counter-charmed." She looked around. A smog covered window, the source of the moon-blue light, lay on the wall behind an empty bookcase with the back knocked out of it. Gwen walked over, dodging books. Moving the shelf and rubbing some of the filth off of the glass with an old newspaper she found on the floor, Gwen looked out the window. It was dark, but the moonlight revealed a lonely back street leading past the backs of shops and homes. With a lot of squeaking, the window allowed Gwen to open it just enough for her to get through. She breathed in the fresh air before hoisting herself up and out, quietly closing the window behind her Taking off her shoes, she ran the quiet backstreet before stopping to test apparition. It didn't work. So she ran further along. This time as she spun, she could feel the odd squeezing sensation characteristic of the travel type and next thing she knew, she was staring at her home's front door. The bathroom for a hot bath was her first stop. "I've got a lot to figure out tonight." 

*veneficology-the study of witches and wizards, similar to anthropology.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: The world of the Harry Potter stories is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling. _

Part 6

Confusion came in through the windows with the sun, hitting Gwen as she lay in bed. She squeezed her eyes before opening them. It all seemed so ordinary somehow: the bland color on the wall, the quilt on the bed, even the sunlight seemed tired and overdone. Somehow, magic itself held no interest for her today. All this ordinariness seemed a stark contrast to what had happened the past week.

Or had it happened? Had she really become a member of a top secret organization? Had she really planned and connived her way into obtaining a death eaters plan after getting him drunk, carried him into the streets of Diagon Alley after curfew, been chased by more death eaters, hidden in an invisible building, met ANOTHER Malfoy claiming to be Harry Potter, and snuck home through the back of a bookstore? Had she actually go on a date with Draco Malfoy! She rolled over with a groan of agony, burying her face into her pillow. "What will people say? What will Rena say?" She groaned again. "What will Fred and George say?" They were the only people that she absolutely had to tell. "Maybe," she pulled her face away from her pillow and sat up on her elbows, "I don't have to tell them that. They don't need to know how I got the information. They'll just be glad to know that he's not a threat!"

Thinking of Fred and George reminded her that she had work that day. "Ooo, why!" She buried her face into her pillow again and wined into it. Finally gathering the energy to hoist herself out of bed, she began the monotonous task of readying herself for the day.

The milk she drank at breakfast tasted the same as it had the day before, the up and down, up and down of her toothbrush as she brushed her teeth felt more mechanical than usual, and the reflection Gwen saw in the mirror simply held no interest for her. There was nothing new about her life anymore. Aside from all of the secrets she had gathered in the past week. But even then, what had she to look forward to? More of the same.

The air outside was fresh from its drink of water the day before, and the grass was still slick. All clouds had taken the day off from their hard work in the previous rain so the sky stood empty, the blue completely unguarded by its usual pawns. Two birds fought over a worm on the ground by a pile of bushes before Gwen opened the door and scared them both away. She observed nothing about the landscaping. Instead she thought about how much she didn't want to apparate to work and spend eight hours stocking merchandise and dealing with ignorant customers intent on ruining other people's days with pranks. She considered calling off work, "but if I did that every time I felt like it, what's the point of having a job." She was struck with what she thought was a wonderful out of the ordinary idea: instead of apparating to work, she would walk. It would be quite a ways to go, but it would be worth it. And so she set out, a bag with her work robes and wand slung over her shoulder.

The shop stood diminished of its usual throng of customers when she arrived due to the early hours. Gwen went into the back, dressed into her robes and returned to the floor where she was immediately assaulted by a loud pop and two redheads.

"Gwen!" cried Fred.

"You're twenty minutes late!" exclaimed George.

Gwen sighed. "I know. I was running late this morning."

"So," George changed the subject.

"Do you have any information for us?" Fred queried.

"Actually," Gwen replied, "I do. Would you like me to tell you now or later?"

The two gingers gave a maniac grin and pulled her into their office. "Tell us all," George said. "And don't leave out any details," finished Fred.

She sat down. "Draco Malfoy's being in here has everything to do with his scheme for catching Harry Potter. He plans on finding the fastest broomstick in the world and capturing him with speed. It's so riddled with flaws that it's not worth considering as a problem."

The twins groaned. "How could we be so dim!" they cried. "Why did we ever consider him a threat? Now we look like two gitts who got our knickers in a twist about Puko Malfoy of all people," George moaned into his hands.

"He couldn't catch a cold, let alone Harry Potter," finished Fred putting himself in the corner.

"But at least you won't have any great unknowns hanging over your heads," Gwen said, trying to comfort them. "You can focus on the real problems now, ones with the shop and with the Order."

"Right," Fred jumped right back into the center of the room.

"No one has to know!" George chimed in. "But…"

"How did you find out?" They both asked suspiciously.

Gwen had hoped she wouldn't have to tell them. But why would she lie? She knew them, and they wouldn't back down. So she told them all about the date, leaving out the bit about the Draco Malfoy clone and his request. She was right in her fears; they teased her mercilessly before sending her back out on the floor. Before she left the office, she turned to them, "Can I still help with the Order or am I to be a civilian again?"

Looking up from a cauldron that he had just lit a fire under, George said, "Once a member…"

"Always a member," Fred finished. "As far as we're concerned, if you've helped the Order once, you're in."

"So you'll let me know if I can do anything else?" she asked.

They looked at each other and said, "We'll let you know." The door shut on her, she guessed so that the twins could have privacy brewing their latest creation. She didn't know why she had asked if she could help further. She hadn't even been that keen on helping in the first place. But anything different would be a relief.

Throughout that day, Gwen went about in a haze. None of the daily work was interesting and no customers could get more than a few words out of her. She gave mechanical answers and walked the store as a train moves on a track, set on a particular route not expecting to change anytime soon. It must have affected her overall work, because Fred and George took notice and popped upon her in the afternoon.

"We couldn't help but notice," they said to her as she attempted to pick up some bouncing marbles she had dropped, "that you haven't been quite your chipper self today."

"I haven't been _feeling_ quite myself today either," she replied, still concentrating on picking up the marbles.

"Not mooning over Malfoy, are you," George asked as Fred cringed at the idea.

"No!" She stood up abruptly. "Never! I've just been…I've been feeling…" she paused, looking around her not knowing exactly what she was feeling. "I suppose I've been feeling rather the same."

"That's generally a good thing," Fred said.

"That is unless you don't quite like the looks of yourself," George added.

"Which is especially bad if you have to look at yourself all the time. Hey George, I've got the same problem she does!" They both had a good laugh and then returned their concentration to Gwen.

"No, I mean that the pointlessness of my life has hit me. Or not so much the pointlessness as the feeling of mechanics, like I'm a robot doing the same thing every day, with nothing to look forward to. I love the shop, but I get rather…well, rather bored in it."

The twins gasped and looked shocked. "How could you!" Fred cried. "Our shop boring?" George added.

"Not the shop," she hastened to clarify. "My work here. It doesn't suit me. Let's just say it's not something I ever planned on doing for the rest of my life. But I just can't seem to figure out anything else. It's just all become too similar. My life is tired out like an old piece of parchment."

The twins looked at each other, for once not saying anything. "Well, we're sorry you feel that way. Pip pip!" and they popped off. Gwen hoped she hadn't upset them. But everything she had said she knew now to be true. She had known it for a while, but it seemed to have finally gotten to her. Perhaps it was time to start working a little harder at, well, finding what she should be working at.

When five o'clock came around, Gwen rushed into the back, changed into her street clothes, and vacated the shop as quickly as she could. She had never been more eager to get off. Once outside, she paused. On any other day she would have simply apparated home. But not today. Instead, she turned and walked in the direction of the Magician's Mew.

It was strange going through the crack between shops and standing in the seemingly empty courtyard in broad daylight, especially because the last time she had been here she was being chased by death eaters. She had seen a few on her way over and had to quickly maneuver through some alleyways, taking her longer than it might have. But she was here. The puddle lay where it had the previous night, still and murky. She guessed that it never dried up. As she was quite at her leisure, she nonchalantly stuck the tip of her wand into the pool, causing ripples to form at its outer edges, and said the password. The same voice as the night before gave its reply, and the building came into view. No music came from its windows now as Gwen gazed up at the building.

Inside, most of the tables on the first floor were vacant. A few small groups of casual lunchers sat at the upper tables, and one man lay at the bar, apparently sleeping. The barman from the night before, now swabbing tables in the dim light, looked up when she came in and nodded. Gwen found a seat at the bar on the opposite end of the sleeping man.

The barman appeared behind the bar, "what can I get for yeh?"

"Whatever sandwich and soup you have and a butterbeer, please."

"Nothing stronger for you?"

"No, I'm not sure my stomach could take it today."

He left through some doors and came back with her sandwich and soup, then turned his back to get her drink.

"I didn't think I'd be coming back here for a while," she said after a moment. He said nothing, so she continued. "I wanted to ask you…did you notice the bloke I was with?"

He turned around with the drink in hand and set it in front of her, then put two enormous fists on the table. "The drunk one. I saw him alright, lolling all over my counter. Why do you ask?"

"Actually, I'm not talking about that one. Well, I am, I suppose. But do you remember when he came in the second time?"

"The second time?"

"Yes. After I came back in running from…looking for a place to hide, he came in again. Do you remember?"

"No one came in after you. You were the only one here, although you were yelling rather loudly at someone or something."

That meant, Gwen thought, that even if there had been any doubts in her mind, the person she had been talking to who claimed to be Harry Potter couldn't possibly have been Draco Malfoy.

"Do you think," she asked, " Harry Potter might actually be hiding among us? Living in disguise and walking about?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment and said, lowering his voice, "as much as I would like to say it was possible, I don't see how he could. He'd slip up sometime. People always do. No, if you ask me, he's in another country somewhere. Or in the wilderness. Unless he's turned animagus illegally. Now that wouldn't be a half bad idea. It's not like he'd be in any more trouble if he did."

"Why would anyone in his right mind try to pass himself off as Harry Potter if he wasn't actually Harry Potter? There's so much risk in it that it could hardly be worth it."

"Now that's an odd question. I don't reckon it would be worthwhile. Unless you were on the dark side and wanted to infiltrate the good side. Or sometimes fame is more important to some folks than self-preservation. But why are you asking these questions?"

"No reason," she said quickly. "I'm just thinking out loud." She thought for a moment, silently this time. Then she said, "Did you always want to be a bartender? And own a restaurant?"

He picked up a glass and started wiping it. "I can't say I have. No, when I was a wee thing I wanted to be a goblin tamer." He chuckled. "I don't think they'd have liked that very much. But despite what we might have always thought we would be, life surprises us in the best ways. I never would have thought of opening a restaurant for those in need of refuge and prying eyes, but circumstances made it happen. It formed gradually on its own, taking its shape day to day without my hardly noticing it."

"So, what advice would you give to someone trying to find their life?"

"I'd say don't push it. What's meant to happen'll happen and there's nothing you can do to stop it. That's not to say you don't work at it. If we left everything up to fate and just sat around, nothing would ever happen. Action is important. But what we do will already have its consequences and we can't change it. Not even with time travel. It's a funny philosophy to study. But if you want a barman's opinion, it's not important enough to fret over."

He walked away soon after to deal with a spill, although how he even knew it had occurred in the dark and silent building was beyond Gwen. She ate her sandwich in silence, thinking. Draco Malfoy's face appeared in her mind, or was it the pseudo Malfoy? She couldn't be sure. Either way, it was unpleasant to think about. And yet, she kept coming back to it. As far as Fred and George were concerned, she didn't need to deal with him anymore. But as to the other request, she doubted whether it was even possible to turn him to the Order's side. But she decided that if she saw him again, which she also doubted, she would try. There was no harm in it.

Suddenly the sleeping man woke up, looked around himself in a drunken confusion, then cried, "I gotter go! I gotter go finish!" He began rummaging through a sack next to him. Gwen observed him silently; he was a tattered looking man, with a worn and sun-hardened face. His jacket looked old, though well kept. He pulled out a brown leather notebook the size of wallet, opened it, and began scribbling in it. After a bit, his hand stopped moving, but the quill didn't. He continued to stare at the page, reading. At one point, he wacked the quill, told it not to be funny, and continued the rest of his entry himself.

"Excuse me," Gwen said. "What are you doing?"

He looked up, then down at the notebook and still scribbling quill, then back up again. "I'm recordin' the log fer my journey 'fore I move on."

"What journey is that, exactly," she asked excitedly.

"Er, my travels…see, I collect items of, em, magical value for folks willin' to buy."

"Like ingredients for potions?" He ignored her while letting loose a loud belch.

"Some o' that. But also, and more importantly, fer wands."

Gwen was familiar with people who made and sold wands, like Olivanders. But she had never met one of the people who collected the phoenix tails, dragon heartstrings, and other like ingredients that went into making them. No doubt it was a dangerous job.

He began to pack up his things once again. "Please," she said quickly, "where are you going now?"

"Off ter Nigeria ter collect long-eared-wonton bat wings. Nasty business."

"Do you work for someone or do you collect what you can and sell to whomever will buy."

"Depends," he said, not paying much attention to her. "Sometimes. Some folk work fer a perticular collector. Others freelance. I'm neither an' both at the same time." He collected his bags. "It's all abou' knowin' what's needed. An' what's valuable. Sometimes yeh can find somethin' more effective as an ingredient than whatever's normally used. But yeh'd have to have a mind fer potions to do that." He tossed his bags over his shoulder and motioned for his quill, which was still writing, to follow him. The notebook and quill together raised themselves in the air and followed him out the door.

What a great life that would be. Nothing ever the same unless you want it to be, making your own schedule. There might be deadlines of course, but everything else was all up to you. The chance to travel and excitement, the bloodless hunt; it all seemed too unreal. But how could she do that. What was she kidding.

After she had finished the soup and sandwich, she walked from the dark, silent building to the still bright and bustling outdoors. She set off for home.

The next morning, the sun once again forced its entry into her bedroom and into her eyes. And once again, the day felt wearyingly familiar. She went to work, now with thoughts of a life she didn't have, full of travel and excitement. Instead, she got stocking shelves and running register. As she was performing the latter task, the bell above the door rang, though it could hardly have been heard for the crowd. The line of customers paying for pranks seemed endless, but started to dwindle as a blonde young man appeared next. He had no purchase to make.

"If you have no purchase please move along for the next customer," Gwen said coldly.

He stepped aside but didn't leave as Gwen rang up the next person. "I need to talk to you," he said.

"If you're here to apologize," she said, handing the customer her knuts and on to the next, "don't bother."

"…I'm not apologizing. I need to talk to you."

"I'm…working." She wasn't concentrating fully, because she was trying to handle the item the customer had put on the counter. He was buying explosive noodles. The box had opened and all the long strands of dry pasta spilled onto the floor and broke in half, causing mini firecracker explosions by her feet. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" Trying to avoid the little bombs by jumping from foot to foot proved useless. She looked up. Draco was doing a bad job of trying not to laugh while the customer looked irritated. "I'll get you another box," she apologized. Quickly she scooted out from behind the counter and towards the explosive noodles display. Malfoy followed her. As she picked up a new box of noodles and tried to head back, he blocked her path forward. Failing to get around him, finally she sighed, exasperated, and said, "Alright, just talk."

He pulled on his sleeves. "What…did I say, exactly, last night?"

"You don't remember?"

"No. My head hurt a lot this morning. What did I tell you? I remember you asking a lot of questions."

"I thought you didn't remember anything."

"I remembered some things. Like you and your questions."

Gwen looked at him. "That's all you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes," he said, giving her a look that said "what else would I talk to you about."

"You didn't say much. You were completely out of your wits with firewhisky. You talked about yourself a lot and how great you are."

"Ah," he appeared relieved. "Good. And what happened after we left? I don't remember how I got home."

"You don't remember leaving me to be captured by death eaters?"

"No, I remember that part, but after that I don't remember anything. I must have passed out."

"So you're not going to apologize."

"Why would I? It was after curfew."

Gwen shoved past him and back to the counter. When she had finished with the last customer in line, she hurried to the back to get some merchandise to stock. But Malfoy was waiting for her on the floor. "What do you want," she said annoyed, going to the shelves full of Pock Puncture Pellets. "Look," he said, following her and standing obnoxiously by her side as she worked, "I didn't like that we went out any more than you do, but it happened so let's forget it."

"Why are you still talking to me?"

"Because, I need to make sure that you won't tell anyone if I told you anything that I shouldn't have."

"You didn't tell me anything that anyone would care about."

He scowled characteristically. "Well, good. And you won't tell anyone about our…date?"

"No," she lied, sighing.

Malfoy smirked. "Good. Now we can move on."

Gwen turned to him, holding her breath to keep her temper. "I moved on so long ago, it's not even funny, Mr. Malfoy."

The smirk fell from his face, "what's that supposed to mean."

"Why would I care if you don't care? There's no reason I would want to see you again, just like I don't want to right now."

He scowled deeper than he had before. "I didn't have to come here you know."

"Of course you did! You had to make sure that you're reputation and plans were intact."

"Fine! I did have to come back…which of my plans are you talking about?" He looked at her with skepticism in his eyes.

Gwen flinched. What had she said? "Whichever ones go along with your reputation," she stuttered out. "I don't know what plans. But there seems to be something you don't want me to know. And I'm tired of this struggle between your ego and my intelligence."

She went back to stocking shelves expecting him to storm off. When he didn't, she looked back at him. He was scowling at her, yet there was some interest in his face. "You don't like me, do you."  
"You haven't given me any reason to, so why would I."

"I have more important things to think about than what other people think about me."

"Like what?" Like broomsticks and catching Harry Potter, she thought.

"Like important things. And I only bother with people who will help me achieve them."

"So why did you bother with me?"

"Because you could help me…with what I'm doing."

She looked at him. He had the beginnings of a smirk on his face mixed with a look of confidence. "You might actually be able to help me more," he said after he thought about it for a minute.

She was taken aback slightly. "Me help you? How?"

"Just information. You seem pretty smart. You might be able to help with…plans."

She thought and remembered the Malfoy doppelganger and his request. "Why don't we have lunch. I get a break in about an hour."

"Fine. Where?"

"The Banshee at one o'clock."

"Alright. Be there." With that he walked away.

_Great_, Gwen thought. _What have I gotten myself into now?_

The lunch consisted of him asking her a lot of questions about brooms and aerial maneuvers. She used the technique for answering questions with circles when she didn't know. Which was often. She had little knowledge of brooms or flying. He also gave her a vague outline of his plan. She told him what she thought of it, and he seemed interested in what she had to say. A few attempts on her part had been made to bring up the moral implications of people's actions, but every time she tried, Draco yawned and began talking about himself. After an hour, she went back to work.

For the next few weeks, Draco Malfoy came into the shop on and off , sometimes asking for her advice or information that she didn't know. Other times he would show up and make a few random comments that had nothing to do with his plans. As far as she knew, he was still sticking with his original plan, though modifying it in ways he wouldn't tell her. She neither asked, nor cared.

The approach of September meant the beginning of the Hogwarts school year. Draco had come into the shop to say goodbye one rainy afternoon, which surprised Gwen. He had left the shop with a grand exit, pushed three six year olds into the display of Pinky Pinchers.

When her shift ended that same day, she knocked quickly on the door of the Weasley twin's office door before opening it. The two young men sat at the desk with a large piece of paper unfurled over its surface. It appeared to be a map, and they talked very animatedly about something or other on it. They looked up as she entered.

"I just came to say that I was leaving for the day," she said. As she started to close the door, they called her back in. She walked towards the desk.

"Do you see this map," they said.

She stepped closer and examined it. "Yes. It's a map of Hogsmeade."

"Yes. And do you know why we're looking at it?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"We're going to expand!" Fred cried triumphantly.

"Into Hogsmeade. We figure we'll open up a smaller shop to more easily reach Hogwarts students during the school year."

"Our figures drop ever so slightly during off season," Fred said.

"So what better way to fix that than by keeping in touch with some of our best customers," finished George.

Gwen admitted that it was a good plan.

"We just need to find someone to scout out for us," Fred said to George in a lower voice.

"And run things," Fred added.

"And collect things," George agreed.

"A protégé," they said together.

They continued to whisper, apparently forgetting Gwen was there, so she left silently. It was never worthwhile to interrupt the twins when they were this wrapped up in an idea.

The next day, Gwen again went to work. The feeling of monotony hadn't left, though Draco's involvement in her summer had served to break it for a while.

No sooner had she come through the door that Fred and George popped up in front of her.

"Come to our office as soon as you can," they said, immediately popping away again.

She followed their orders and knocked on their door as soon as she had changed into her robes. "You wanted to see me," she said, popping her head in the door.

"Yes, come in," they said.

Again, the map of Hogsmeade was on the table, this time with a few areas circled in red.

"We have a proposition for you," said Fred.

George finished his thought. "We would like you to represent Wizard Wheezes in Hogsmeade."

Gwen gaped. "What? You mean run the business down there?"

"Yes," George said. "Mind you, it would be much, much smaller than this establishment."

"Just a small business really," Fred chimed in.

"But enough to keep merchandise flowing for Hogwarts students and the surrounding area," George finished. "You've already proven you're loyalty not only to us, but to the right side."

"The not You-Know-Who side," finished Fred.

"And you're capable and smart. What better person for the job?"

Gwen hardly knew what to say. "Where would I live? Where would I be running things?"

"Ah," said Fred, "here's our plan. We'll set you up in the Three Broomsticks until you can find a suitable establishment for the shop. Once you find a good building, you can either live upstairs or wherever you can afford."

"Both before and after you've set up the business, you will collect materials from a list we will give you that can be found in and around the area," George said.

"Some of which are…eh, harder to get than others," said Fred.

"Dangerous," George clarified. "Also, your being down there will be a way of helping the Order because you'll be able to keep an eye on goings on in Hogsmeade. We have lots of eyes in Hogwarts, but not so many in the town."

"Hey George! The shop can also be a sort of hideout for people in narrow straights running from Death Eaters!"

"Yeah! So you're jobs will be: a.) find a building for business b.) run that business c.) collect materials for pranking merchandise d.) set up a shipping manifesto with us here so we can send you goods and you can send us materials and e.) keep an eye on things."

"And f.) help any and all Order members or others needing help from the dark side."

"What do you say?"

She was stunned but one word came to her lips, "Yes!"


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: The world of the Harry Potter stories is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling._

Part 7

Time tends to speed up inconveniently when there is much to do. Since Gwen first learned about her promotion, she had been packing as quickly as she could, though she hardly knew what to bring. She ended up with far more than she probably needed and still felt unprepared. She hadn't been to Hogsmeade since her seventh year at Hogwarts, and she wondered how things might have changed. Especially with the dark presence that permeated the area. Hogwarts had been infiltrated, and no doubt the town was kept under close scrutiny.

She had sent an owl to her brother. As he was still out on the sea it took the owl a long time to find him. When it came back, a letter was tied to its leg. Jeremy promised he would visit her as soon as he could get leave. As her phone had been blown up, Gwen also sent an owl to her parents, who were thrilled at the news.

Back at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Fred and George had incorporated a few hours a day to "train" Gwen in her managerial duties, go over the types of items she was to collect and where they might be, identify possible store locations, as well as anything the twins happened to think was relevant on a given day. These sessions offered a respite from her normal duties.

Rina had decided to throw Gwen a going away party, which was almost inconvenient considering all of the packing left to do. However, once Gwen was among the throng of old friends from school and work, including Fred and George, she could relax and enjoy herself. Someone, she guessed later that it was Timothy Headwiggle, had brought gin with them. She couldn't remember at what time during the party they had all started drinking, but she must have had enough to make her a bit tipsy. She and the large group sat at an oversized table in the Banshee late in the evening, though not late enough to cause any death eaters to raise a brow. Someone who must have thought it was funny had enchanted the table to levitate, and for ten minutes now anyone who was fortunate to have enough room to get their elbows on the table had to keep it from floating to the ceiling.

Gwen herself was laughing, too loudly, with the group at a joke someone had just told when she spied a blonde head at the pub window. The image of the banshee on the other side was screaming at him, unheard by those inside, but he seemed to pay no notice. In fact, as soon as Gwen saw him, he disapparated. She had stopped laughing suddenly; Draco Malfoy was at school and had been for nearly three weeks. Why was he staring at her through the window? Unless that wasn't him. Gwen started; she had practically forgotten about Harry Malfoy in her flurry of work and packing.

George had noticed her confused staring and turned to follow her gaze. When there was nothing there, he turned back to her with a confused look of his own, causing Gwen to come back to reality. Perhaps she had imagined it.

Whether it had been real or not, Gwen's sighting made her nervous for her last few days at work and at home. The feeling that she was being watched permeated her mind, but she knew that if he was watching her now it meant he had been watching her for quite some time before then. She was being paranoid. But it had been awhile since Harry Malfoy had promised he would contact her. And if he actually had been watching her, it meant he thought it was safe enough to come out in the open. Would she hear something soon? But there was too much to do to linger on these thoughts. She needed to focus on last minute details, to make sure she didn't forget anything. Of course, she had over-packed, so there was really no danger of this.

It was a Saturday, the day Gwen would leave her old life and begin anew in Hogsmeade. Actually, it was almost like she was going back from a new life into an old one, as it was so close to Hogwarts. But even if this were true, she had fond memories from that time, so it wouldn't have been a bad thing.

Fred and George insisted that she show up at the shop early, though Gwen wondered why when she woke up that morning. She cursed them and their infernal early hours in her head before getting up from her bed. Feeling lazy that morning, she flicked her wand, making her bed presentable (as it wouldn't be slept in for awhile) and brushed her teeth quickly.

Not a few moments later, she was in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, feeling that she should have allowed herself more time to wake up before apparating. A bit of her pinky fingernail had been left behind. Fred and George popped up in front of her, looking just as disheveled as Gwen felt. "Why did you make me get up so early," she moaned, clutching her bag.

"I don't know," groaned Fred. "Why did we make us get up this early, George?"

George yawned a yawn so wide that it looked as though his mouth would unhinge itself. It stayed attached, however, and as soon as he recovered, he said, "because we have some important new developments to share with her. And it changes our plans quite a bit."

"Right," Fred replied. "That was the reason."

George started off, "As you know, our plan has been to establish a shop in Hogsmeade. We have wanted to do this for some time, but decided against it back when Umbridge had taken over Hogwarts. You remember those good old days. There was so much security and whatnot that no students were allowed into Hogsmeade. No joke shop would have a ghost of a chance there without students coming in and out."

"When Bum-bridge was out," Fred continued, "we started hoping again that we might start up business there, buying Zonko's Joke Shop or some other building. But now we find we have a few…eh…problems."

"Very similar to the problems we had when Ick-bridge was around," said George, walking over to a box on one of the nearby shelves and fiddling with the contents inside. "The school's security has sky-rocketed, and now student movement is not quite so carefree as we had it. And there are death eaters everywhere now, both in and out of Hogwarts."

"So, what does that…" Gwen began before Fred went on.

"And it seems, due to our lucky, lucky connection with Harry, Ron and Hermione, you know, the Weasley family is now a target for every death eater out there. So we find…"

"That we will have to close down Weasley's Wizard Wheezes…" said George.

"For an unspecified amount of time…" Fred cut in.

"To go into hiding," they both finished.

Gwen was silent. Then said, "so where does this leave me?"

"Well, that depends on you," George said still fiddling with the box.

"We have another proposition for you which will necessarily cause you to change your plans," Fred rocked back and forth on his heels.

"I'll have to change my plans either way," she said.

"As we've said," George continued, "It will be very difficult to attempt to open up any kind of shop with our names attached to it now, and anything that might bring a few laughs would instantly be under suspicion."

"Death eaters don't tend to have very good senses of humor," Fred quipped. "We propose starting a sort of smuggling business."

"With pranking items," George brought his hand out of the box. "To Hogwarts students. They'll need something to keep their spirits up…"

"What with all of the death eaters they have to deal with," clarified Fred.

"So," Gwen said, trying to clear things up for herself, "I go to Hogsmeade and collect materials for you while simultaneously smuggling pranking items in to students. How am I supposed to even get the items into the school?"

"It's not so much about getting them into the school as it is covering up what you're doing long enough for students to come to you," said Fred. "So, there are a few things you could do."

"The first idea is that you would live in Hogsmeade," George began, "wait in places where Hogwarts students would be likely to go, and catch them with your wares while the death eaters' backs are turned."

"Not unlike what we used to do before we left school. But instead of keeping teachers from seeing the goods, we're hiding them from DE's."

"Anyway, this would require you to wait around a lot and figure out how to bring items around with you without being conspicuous," George went on. "The other idea is that you would go to Hogsmeade and open up your own humble business, something having nothing to do with pranking items. However, underneath the normal exterior lies a world of pranks! You would have a facility to work from and a regular place of business where students, and others, would know how to find you. Of course they both have risks."

"Unless you'd rather call it quits entirely…"

"No!" Gwen blurted out. "Everything's already set. It'll just take a little more time to set up, that's all. And I can still keep an eye out on the goings on around Hogsmeade. Keep you all informed. Not that the Order hasn't been. But I'll figure it all out when I get there…how AM I getting there?"

"We can't have you just apparating in," George said, seeing that this was just what she had been thinking of doing.

"Causes too much of a ruckus with the DE's," Fred elaborated. "Not to mention it's harder than ever to find a spot that doesn't have a lock nowadays."

"Broomstick's too conspicuous too, if you just flew straight in."

"We thought you'd take the train…"

"Get off at Hogsmeade station…"

"Catch a carriage ride around the lake…"

"And waltz the rest of the way into the town on your own two feet."

"Would I be taking the Hogwartz express," Gwen asked.

"Don't be daft. That's just for students," Fred chastised.

"You should know that," George cut in. "Did you ever see a full grown witch or wizard popping by your cabin? No."

Fred pulled on an invisible train whistle in the air, "there are other trains that run throughout the school year. Still accessible through platform 9 ¾."

"Don't worry yourself. How else would wizards and witches with live cargo and such get about."

"Why didn't I know about this before," she said skeptically.

They shrugged and Fred popped away for a moment, returning with a satchel that he handed to Gwen. "This is for your collecting."

"It doesn't have any charms on it yet, but you can do that better'n we could. It's got enough space without magic though."

She took the bag from him, feeling its rough material. It wasn't very pretty, but then she supposed she wouldn't mind getting it dirty, which she no doubt would. Next thing she knew, Fred and George were grabbing hold of her and apparating away. The pull took her by surprise, and when they landed she had to take a moment to keep her non-existent breakfast in. Recovering enough to look around her, she found that they had taken her to the railroad station.

"Now," George took out a pocket watch and looked at it, though it kept jumping around in his hand. Gwen didn't know how he had gotten the time from it, but he apparently had, for he said, "the next train for Hogsmeade leaves in half an hour…"

"So you should probably get on in there," Fred pushed her forward.

"What about my bag," she said, realizing it was only holding the empty brown satchel. "And where am I going to get a carriage?"

"You can catch one from Hogsmeade station when you get there. Quite worrying!" Fred continued to push her forward before she walked out of his reach. Turning around, she gave them a quick wave. "You'll be hearing from us," they said before popping away, leaving Gwen on an almost completely abandoned platform.

The early morning had not yet passed, and only a few early risers and business muggles could be seen in the area. Sighing, Gwen walked through the barrier between nine and ten only to step onto a slightly less abandoned platform. A wizard stood amongst a herd of goats about twenty yards from Gwen, and a witch sat slouched on a bench with her hat pulled low over her face. Her breathing came slow and deep. Envying her sleeping, Gwen looked away yawning and saw her bag floating into one of the cars on the train, which sat idle and impatient, making the occasional loud puffing noise like a great sigh.

There was nothing to do but follow her bag to the compartment it had nestled itself in. With twenty minutes to spare, Gwen thought she might rest her eyes for a bit.

Gwen awoke from a jolt of the train. The scenes from the window sped past, a green, blue, pink and orange blur. The sun was coming up. How long had she been asleep? She lifted her head from the frosty window, which had left her forehead slightly damp. The compartment was unlike those on the Hogwarts express. The seats were lumpier and the overall décor was dull, with browns, grays and the occasional rich green to liven the place up. It didn't help much, but at least it was clean. She realized that she had company; a woman sat in the seat opposite her, with dark, curly hair put up in piles on her head. She wore a satin red business dress suit with a large white flower in one of the buttonholes. A spicy-sweet smell with French undertones wafted in whorls from her. Currently she was looking at herself in a compact as it hovered in the air and powdered her nose for her. A large, ruffly handbag sat open at her feet. The woman, noticing Gwen's sleep-stupid stare, grabbed the compact out of the air, snapping it shut as she did so. "Good morning," she said.

"G'morning," Gwen grogged, sitting up.

"You mumble in your sleep, you know," she said with the raise of an eyebrow. She squinted her eyes and turned up the corners of her mouth.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Never apologize dear. It admits to other people that you've done something unattractive. Besides, it's too early for it."

Oh. Sorr…I mean, so are you getting off at Hogsmeade station?"

"No, I'm going on further. Much to do. I have to be in Burburry by noon."

"Wha' for?" Gwen yawned.

"Oh, just a business transaction. I'm dropping off an order of moonroot extract. You wouldn't believe the hassle I went through to get it. But," she gave a sideways smile, displaying perfect white teeth, "I nabbed them in the end. I never was more mud-covered in my life."

"You went out and collected these? Are you a field collector then?"  
She again brought out her compact and began fiddling with her curls. "Only as a side-job. I specialize in recovering lost pages and spells from grimoires and the like. You have to know the various legalities in terms of ownership and such, so most people like me have to come from a lawyering background."

"But you collect ingredients too?"

"Yes, as I've said quite plainly. It doesn't pay as well and it can get pretty dirty. But it's satisfying work when you're bored."

"How did you start collecting?"

She closed the compact again as Gwen shifted in her seat. "I was looking for a whole half of a book on dark magic, so you can imagine the kind of fowl people I had to fend off to get at it. Anyway, I had to hide in some boggy woods for nearly a month afterwards just to stay alive. It turns out that there were a lot of mushrooms and roots there perfect for use in potions, so I collected them, and when I got back I sold them. From then on, I've been collecting in my spare time for potions shops, potioneers, wand and broom makers." She began to pack up her bag with the compact and a few books, pens and papers that had been strewn about on the seat next to her. "What's your business in Hogsmeade? Visiting family, are you?"

"N-no, I'm opening a shop."

Oh? Good luck with that in these times. I have a hard enough time selling to people with all the regulations and inspections in place now. I can't imagine opening a business. What do you plan on selling?"

"I'll be selling magical ingredients and oddities." Where had that come from? She squinted at her own hands.

"Well, that's interesting," she said, rising. "Let me know if you ever need supplies." She went to the door of the compartment and, her fingers on the handle, said, "we're nearly there now. Better make yourself presentable." And with a toss of the hair, she was gone. Gwen looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her usual though slightly tired face looked back at her. "What does she mean presentable?"

Stepping off at Hogsmeade station felt like the beginning of the Hogwarts school year, except for the death eaters who questioned her as she got off the train. She panicked for a moment until she realized that they were questioning everyone as they got off. Old farmers with hordes of sheep and goats and a small assortment of witches and wizards tottered onto the platform around Gwen. She walked around aimlessly looking for buggies or carriages. After looking around with no success, she decided to wander up the road a bit to see if it was further on.

The sun had risen fully now, and the pale of a newly born sky spread out before her on the road, blowing its chill but sweet baby-morning breath at her. The early October saw a flurry of animal activity as they set about get ready for winter. Gwen pulled her jacket closer around her, keeping the cool out, and set on the path. As she continued up the road, her bags in hand, three people gradually came into view: two death eaters and a small cowering man. Coming up closer to them, Gwen saw that his cart, which had previously been moving up the lane a slow pace, was now turned over on its side with the crates of food spilled out on the ground. "I-I tell ye, I do na ha' anything b-b-but food in these crates," the man pleaded with them.

"From what we hear, you've been supplying more than just food to this village," said the taller of the two figures. "What filth have you been spreading about the Dark Lord?"

"Bu-ut I p-promise ye," he stuttered, "I'm jus' tryin' teh make a livin' here. Please, jus' let me go. Yeh've searched my cart and I've told ye I've not said anythin'. What more can ye want from me?"

They stared at him. Then the taller of the two motioned to the shorter, who raised his wand towards the man's cart, yelling "expulso!" A fiery explosion erupted from the center of the tipped wagon, sending Gwen and the small man to the ground. The pale sky was marred by the rising smoke, defiling the pure white of the clouds. The massive brazier made from the man's living grew larger and larger as more food was eaten by the fire. The death eaters left the man, passing by Gwen and laughing all the way around the corner. As soon as they were gone, Gwen sprang up and towards the scene of destruction. The man himself had prostrated himself on the ground, his face in the dirt, unaware of anything but his grief. Gwen stopped before the blast sight abruptly and raised her wand. "Aguamenti!" A jet of water shot from her wand and into the fire. By the time she had extinguished the flames, the food had turned to cinders and the cart had been severely charred. "Reparo." She hadn't been sure what the effects of this spell might be on something with fire-damage, but the cart appeared usable now. It was still covered in areas of sooty black, but it looked much better than it had. There was nothing Gwen could do about the food. Having finished with the cart, she now turned to the man who had said nothing the whole time. He was now on his knees with his mouth lolling open, his eyes vacant. "Sir." Gwen knelt in front of him. "Sir! Are you alright?"

"I think…I think I'll be alright," he said weakly, just managing to look at her. "Thank you." She helped him stand up, then he walked over to his cart like a man in his sleep, touched its side, and disapparated. Gwen forgot about the carriage and walked the rest of the way to Hogsmeade, her stomach churning.

The village had changed; buildings looked dark even in the morning sun, and a mood of dread hung over the place like a sopping rag. The eye could not turn in any direction without seeing a masked, dark-cloaked figure. Wishing she could pass through walls or disappear at will, Gwen hurried, but not too quickly, to the Three-Broomsticks.

A short talk with the inn-keeper while standing next to a group of low-speaking death eaters secured her a room for the night, and as soon as she got into the room and the man left her, she collapsed on the floor in front of the door, exhausted from stress and shock at the changes she saw. How could the village endure so much darkness in one place? "Because they have to," she said aloud.

Her stomach wrenched her forward with cries of emptiness, and she hastily pulled herself up from the wood floor. Her things were on the bed, awaiting patiently should she desire to use them. She was so hungry, however, that she couldn't think of anything else.

A plate of eggs, ham and pumpkin juice were whisked to her table in the pub, where the morning crowd had finally come, which consisted of a sober party of villagers who were wary of drinking too much should a death eater disapprove.

The sleep-fog lifted from her mind as she filled her stomach, and she thought back to the conversation on the train. She said she was opening a shop selling ingredients and oddities? She supposed the talk of the woman's profession had put it into her head. "Well," she thought, "I'll already be gathering things for Fred and George. I could get enough of other things to stock a shop I guess. I'll just have to figure out what items can be used in potions. And where am I going to get oddities? Or a building." Before she could even think about a building, she would have to get items to stock it with. That would be priority, besides Fred and George's needs.

She was just starting a cup of hot tea when a group of Hogwarts students came in the door. Most of the tea Gwen had just sipped into her mouth went violently back into the cup as she saw that Draco Malfoy had just entered, wearing a green and silver scarf against dark clothes and surrounded by likewise clad friends, sniveling and sniggering about something or other. What day was it? Were students allowed to visit Hogsmeade on a Saturday? If they let them out at all, it would be on a Saturday. It was alright. Why was she so anxious about it anyway? Gwen grabbed a copy of the Daily Prophet sitting conveniently nearby and held it in front of her face, but snuck peaks at them by burning a small hole in one of the "o"s on the page with her wand.

The group of Slytherins trooped over to a table about twenty paces from Gwen's. Draco and one of his compatriots walked up to the bar to order drinks for the group and returned soon with the beverages. They were a loud group as they drank their butterbeer, but soon settled down to low murmuring.

How long could they possibly stay there, she wondered. She had to write a letter to her employers to let them know of her arrival and her plans to open a shop, and she had to plan her next move, none of which she could do while Draco Malfoy sat at a table near her. There was no way she could get out unnoticed, so she decided to make the best of it. Making the paper float in front of her, she asked the passing worker if she would bring Gwen a quill and parchment. She took her time writing the note, as she had nowhere else to be and nothing better to do. She had started to write "Dear Fred and George" but scratched it out, thinking it better not to use their names.

_Dear Mum and Dad, _

_I've made it to Hogsmeade safely. I haven't had a chance to look for a building for the shop, but I think it would be a better idea to stock up on inventory first. I plan on collecting items for it from the surrounding area and buying/selling unusual items. It'll be a tough one to get started, but I've got nothing to lose! _She paused. _My hobby hasn't taken off here yet. I haven't really gotten the opportunity to do anything with it yet here. But I will soon. I'll let you know how it goes. _

_Gwen_

Well that didn't take long, she thought. What next? She checked the "o" again; they were still there, of course. She would plan the rest of her day, that's what she would do right there. When she could get back to her room, she would pull out her pranking ingredients list and map of the area and start locating places to start gathering. Then she could go around to the different shops in the area and ask about possible materials and locations that she could start searching for her own stock of items to sell in the shop.

How much time had passed now? She looked at the clock on the wall. Not even two minutes. She looked through the "o" once again, but as soon as she did, a shriek filled the room, pulling everyone and their wands out of their seats. Everyone except the Slytherin-filled table, where the shriek originated. Panic turned to confusion as a girl with dark hair and a happy look on an otherwise permanently sour face bounced up and down in her seat at the table, squealing as she clutched the arm of her platinum blonde neighbor. The group of youths seemed to finally notice the silence around them (aside from the noises of the girl), as they turned around. They appeared surprised that all of the wands in the room were aimed at them. Draco, the oblivious brunette still attached to his arm, noticed as well. He scanned the room, annoyance on his face, taking in the scene. Gwen couldn't have hidden herself before his eyes were upon her, for she, like everyone eles, had pulled out her wand and was as frozen where she stood.. Yet find her he did. He squinted at first, then opened his eyes wider before relaxing them. He appeared pleased with something.

However, the self-satisfied smirk smeared across his face was wiped clean away when two death eaters approached the table and ordered them all to be quiet or get out. The sour girl huffed and scowled, but was soon put right by the severe looks from the patrons in the bar, who had only just now begun to put away their wands and resume their business, though one or two people put theirs down unwillingly. No doubt these would have been eager to jinx her with a paralysis curse or silencing spell. Gwen wouldn't have minded if they had; the girl's screeching had made her ears ring. However, the shrieking incident turned out to be in Gwen's favor, as the Slytherins soon vacated the table and left the pub. She could have left afterwards anyway, as Draco Malfoy had seen her. But she had resumed her place behind the newspaper on the off chance that he might think he had been mistaken.

As soon as the door closed, Gwen was out of her seat collecting her things from the table. She had her hand on the door to the inn's rooms when the front door opened again, and she was through the threshold when someone touched her arm. "Couldn't resist following me, could you," Draco said, taking his hand away quickly when Gwen turned around. She had been trying to avoid that smirk this whole time; she took comfort in the thought that this wasn't the most miserable thing she could have failed to accomplish. She had to call herself to attention.

"Trying to hide behind yesterday's edition, were you?" he pushed, smirking deeper.

"Not at all," Gwen looked away and back again. "I was deeply engrossed in one of the stories. What brings you to Hogsmeade today?"

"I have more of an excuse to be here than you do."

"I'm here on business, actually."

"For those red-headed fools," he scoffed. "Still working for them, eh."

Gwen lifted her head slightly, "no, I'm going into business for myself. I've decided to open a shop selling ingredients."

"Oh." He scowled. "Good thing you got out of that situation. It wouldn't have gone well for you, you know. They'll be getting theirs soon. You'll see."

At even fuller attention than before, Gwen asked, "what do you mean," though she knew exactly what.

"It's been a long time coming, being connected with wanted rebels, and no doubt being ones themselves."

He had entered with her into the hallway where the inn section of the Three Broomsticks began on the first floor. Gwen reached behind him and closed the door, blocking out the noise of the pub and any eyes that had followed them. Draco shifted uncomfortably. "And why can't they disagree, Draco. They have a right to want happiness and freedom. Why not?"

He scowled. "I-if you keep talking like that, you're bound to get in trouble yourself."

"Go ahead, turn me in. If you want to help a madman fill the world with fear and hate and death, that's your problem. But you won't convince me. And you won't even be happy yourself. Go ahead. Turn me in!"

He swallowed, his eyes opening wider. "No."

Gwen scrutinized his face. Dark circles pulled on his eyes and deep creases had developed in his forehead. From all of the scowling he does, she thought. But they gave the effect of a person much older than seventeen, weighed down by anxiety. "Are you alright?" she asked.

He was taken aback, "of course I'm alright, why would you think otherwise!"

"You don't look alright. You look…"

"I don't look anything!" He grabbed her wrist roughly, putting his face uncomfortably close to her own. Gwen twisted her arm in his grip, matching his scowl with one equally fierce of her own. A staring contest ensued, neither one blinking, both intent on being the last to look away. Loud laughter drifted in from the crack under the door, courtesy of the pub. Draco's cold eyes faltered slightly, and he said with quiet severity, "mind your own business." He thrust her wrist from his hand and stalked out the door.

The quiet of her room was much needed at this point in time, as she tried to forget the unpleasantness of the morning by absorbing herself in her work. As she, Fred and George had discussed, there were many areas nearby that she might start collecting. These she circled on the map, which she hung on the wall. This done, she pulled out her letter to Fred and George, quickly revised, asking them to please send a list of names of people who might be interested in getting involved in her "hobby."

Gwen bundled herself up in her jacket when she went outside to owl her letter and talk to the various shop owners. She didn't get as much information as she had hoped, but she got a few more locations that she later circled on the map that night. She was mentally exhausted, even though she felt that she hadn't done much. She plopped down on the bed, staring at the map on the wall. She would try by the shore of Loch Lake first, and then go from there on Monday. She would take Sunday off, thinking it would be good to start adhering to her "usual" business hours.

Her head hit her pillow without her hardly noticing, and she was in a dozing stage of sleep when she heard a tapping sound. She sat up groggily. The noise came from her window. She pulled out her wand and stepped over cautiously to the sill, unfastening the lock and thrusting it open. A gray owl flew inside, dropping a letter on the floor. With the window open, the cold air rushed into the room, throwing the letter around the room, but a swift foot put a stop to the paper's gallivants. "Gwen" was written on the back of the envelope in a spidery hand. Fumbling a bit, she quickly opened the letter and read its contents eagerly:

_You've probably been wondering where I've been. But don't worry. I've been keeping myself busy. Meet me this coming Saturday at the Hogshead inn. Try to be inconspicuous. Five in the evening. Burn this._

_Harry P._

As soon as she had finished reading, the bird flew out, and Gwen quickly shut the window after it. "Draco Potter," Gwen whispered. "I'd almost forgotten about you. Great, more Draco. Or more of his face, anyway." She pointed her wand at the paper and whispered, "evanesco." The whole page disappeared entirely. "I'd say that was a right bit more clean a job than burning it would have done."

When she laid her head on her pillow, pulling her covers up to her nose, Gwen squeezed shut her eyes against images of fire and dark cloaks, wizards torturing other wizards, and pale blue eyes staring in the dark.


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: The world of the Harry Potter stories is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling._

Part 8

That whole week, Gwen felt like a child again, picking flowers and chasing butterflies. Of course, the flowers were actually grasses, mushrooms, and root. Some of the "butterflies" _were_ actual butterflies, but ones that glowed in the dark or secreted poison that made your tongue move uncontrollably. She knew this because one had flown in her mouth as she jumped after it, and shortly after, her mouth muscles went crazy. She couldn't keep her tongue in control, so when she walked through the village on her way back to the Three Broomsticks later that day, people gave her a wide berth.

The bag Fred and George had given her turned out to be an immense help. Even without the expanding charm to make the inside larger, it had a lot of room and pockets for organization. And it kept out mud and water, which came in handy more than once.

She had even gotten the chance to visit one of the merchant-suggested locations, where she gathered stinkweed. This particular type of noxious plant favored hills with tall grass. So tall in fact that Gwen had a hard time moving through it, and could hardly tell where she was going. As quiet as she tried to move through, her every step sent the grasses rattling against each other, and the clumping of her feet could no doubt be heard in distant lands. The grasses stretched in every direction until they reached the trees behind or the horizon in front. Where was the stinkweed? Resting on top of the hill she had just climbed, Gwen took stock of her surroundings. The tip of a neighboring hill appeared to vary in color from the rest of the hairy landscape.

The wind knocked grass in Gwen's face as she descended into the bowl between her hill and the one with the discoloration, and the smell of moisture pushed its way into her senses. The distant hum of some kind of ruckus came from the direction of Hogsmead, but that wasn't so unusual with the new order of things.

As though it had planned it, the noise from the village faded from hearing, and a new sound took its place. A noise like pillows being hit against the ground came from the left, disturbing the tips of the grass. Gwen pulled out her wand. She should have researched this area, she thought. "Who's there?" No reply came. Before she could utter another sound, a creature popped out of the grass before her, knocking her from her feet. Her head snapped backwards with the force of the fall, and when she looked up again, she found herself staring into the eyes of something the size of a large dog. Its bulk came from the mass of its torso and head; it had short legs and a long tale that weaved about its legs and sometimes tickled Gwen's nose. Its great head was pug-like, with a flat snout and a black face, which had a very angry look on it at the moment. It sat on her chest growling and dribbling. Gwen didn't know how long she had kept up this staring contest with the beast before a whistle sounded from nearby and the strange animal ran off, albeit reluctantly. After Gwen had stood up, looking down at the dribble on her arms and pack, a man's voice sounded over the grassy waves. "Awkward lump! What are you doing running off on me like that! Now stay put. I don't know why I even bring you along except you're always jumping up and down when I'm leaving, like it's your business to come. And a great mess you make of it too, with that jumping! You know you cost me a whole collection of priceless China last week?" He went on in this way, his voice growing fainter as he moved away. Satisfied that he would not be coming in her direction, Gwen proceeded, with much greater caution, towards her goal. She even removed her shoes, which greatly reduced the sound of her walking.

The top of this hill gave Gwen a rock to rest herself upon after her escape from the beast. She didn't remember ever seeing one in Magical Creatures class. Maybe she had read about it, for it didn't seem wholly unfamiliar. The smell of bitter powder came from the mounds of stinkweed that she had succeeded in finding, and as soon as she had gathered herself and wiped away as much of the drool from her pouch with grass as she could, Gwen set to picking.

Once her pack was thoroughly saturated with the stinkweed smell, Gwen stood up from her work, satisfied. In her labor, however, she hadn't heard the footsteps behind her, so when she turned around, she was met once again with the black eyes of the beast from earlier, only this time, he had brought his master. "Sorry to bother you," he said. "The name's Jenson Cole, and this is Toby." He motioned to the beast, who was staring up at Jenson with endearment. "I wondered if you might point me in the direction of Hogsmeade from here." He was a broad man, necessary for the large pack on his back. She estimated that he was five years older than her.

"It's over to the east there," she said, pointing. "If you don't mind my asking, what are you doing out here with that thing? He almost ate my face earlier."

"Oh," he looked at the animal by his side. "Toby's kind of…jumpy. But he wouldn't hurt a fly. Unless that fly were eating his food. Then there'd be a problem." He gave one explosive laugh before continuing. "I'm just passing through on my way to Hogsmeade. I just got back from trading in Saudi Arabia. They've got loads of goods."

"What business are you in then? Are you a trader?"

"Actually I'm a magical antiques and curiosities merchant."

"But that's perfect," she cried. "I'm looking to open up a shop selling just those types of things. Well, not specifically. But it would be among my other wares."

"Well well! Seems you're in luck today! I have a few items here with me." He pulled his pack off of his back and sat down on the ground. Gwen crouched opposite him and watched as he pulled out various trinkets and items. One thing he brought out, which took him some pulling, as it got stuck in the opening of his bag, was as large as Toby. At one point he pulled out something the size of his fist that was wrapped carefully in cloth. This he set to the side, "that's not for sale" When he had finished bringing everything out, he said, "this is all I have with me, but I've got more in transit."

Gwen perused what he had to offer, asked about the cost and worth of various items, selected a few that she could afford at the moment, and paid him promptly in sickles. When she was done, Jenson carefully packed everything away again, being especially tender with the item wrapped in cloth. "What is that," Gwen asked.

"Oh, it's, uh, it's nothing," he replied, closing the pack hastily. "Just a delivery I'm making near Hogsmeade. It's why I'm here."

"Yes? You'd better be careful with all of the death eaters around. They're not likely to appreciate secret deliveries."

He stood up hastily, "thanks for your business. Here's my card if you ever need more supplies." He whisked a small card from the air and handed it to her before heading off, Toby at his heals. The beast had left a mound of gray fur where it had been sitting, soft and wispy. "Time to get out of here," Gwen thought.

If ever there was a time to expand the carrying capacity of her bag, now was it. Having done so, she was careful to keep the stinkweed and other ingredients she'd gathered separated from her newly acquired merchandise.

Back at the Three Broomsticks, Gwen sat surrounded by tea, newsprint and stinkweed, the noise of the pub making melody with the rain outside, which had picked up since she'd gotten back. Suddenly, Gwen started. Calling out to the person at the nearest table, she asked, "what time is it?"

"It's nearly three o'clock."

"Thank you so much." Gulping down her tea and stuffing her things into her bag, she hastened out the door. She met few people on her way, and only recognized one or two, as the downpour drowned out the sight of the surrounding area. A clock chimed three in the distance. "I'm late! I'm late!" She ran, making her way to a small building neighboring Dervish & Banges. The older lady inside had quite a shock when the door burst open and the figure of a sopping wet young woman stood silhouetted in the doorway.

"I'm sorry I'm late! I lost track of time."

The old woman adjusted her glasses and put her hand over her heart, chest heaving. "Yes. Yes. That's just fine. You're…you're Miss Partle?"

"Yes," she said approaching the woman with a relived smile and an outstretched arm. "I am. I hope it won't ruin my chances of possibly renting this place."

"I doubt it," she said, shaking Gwen's hand and gesturing for her to sit down. "I'm not getting many offers. No one wants to live in a dark arts infested village, God forbid start a business."

The chair Gwen settled herself in creaked loudly with every move she made. "I guess this is a s good a time to buy as any. Why are you selling, if you don't mind my asking?"

"For the same reason no one's buying. So much darkness isn't good for my health. Let me give you a tour."

For the next half hour, with rain beating against the windows and roof, Gwen walked around the small building with the decrepit woman, behind the counter and up the ladder to the sleeping area.

"There's a small kitchen in the back and the stove heats the whole building. If you don't clean the pipe every so often it will smoke."

Not only was the building small, it was dark, the roof leaked right above the bed upstairs, and the situation of the shop itself wasn't especially good for business. But it was cheap and it was something.

"How soon could I take up residence," Gwen asked.

"As soon as you could pay me. I've got no more business here and I'll be living with my daughter and her husband."

"I should be able to have the money to you by tomorrow."

Gwen left the building a bit disappointed; it was so unlike what she had imagined: cramped and uncomfortable. But if she was going to go anywhere with the business she would have to start somewhere.

She sent an owl off to Fred and George as soon as she got back to the inn telling them to send the down payment. The next morning, Saturday, the twins sent an owl straight to her window with what she asked for.

An hour later, she was standing alone in the middle of the dark shop. The old woman had taken the money and left, leaving contact info on the counter. She set about cleaning, opening windows and stocking shelves with what merchandise she had; but when she was done, the shopping area looked half empty. It was much better than she had anticipated.

She didn't know how long it would take her to actually find enough to stock everything completely. She remembered the pranking items Fred and George had forced into her bag, and she wondered if she should bring them out. After debating with herself on the wisdom or folly of this plan, she settled on bewitching a cabinet below the counter to hold everything. "It'll work for the time being. It'd be nice to have something a little less conspicuous."

Her stomach reminded her of lunch, so she stepped outside with an umbrella, as the rain from yesterday still fell. The road was muddy and what cobblestone there was had been flooded over so that no matter where Gwen walked she was ankle deep in something unpleasant. She rounded a corner, watching a black figure in a nearby shop doorway carefully and almost tripped over two people crouched against a wall.

"I'm so sorry," she said, turning sharply. A girl about her age, maybe a bit older, with dark hair and a blank face looked up at her tiredly. The girl clutched something wriggling in her arms, and Gwen realized that it was a child. He had been wrapped in a cloak, but both persons sat in a pool of water, so it did no good.

"Oh. Sorry. I…"

"Whatever," the dark girl turned away.

Gwen stared at her, and then proceeded to hold out her umbrella to the girl.

"What are you doing," the girl said, squinting at her.

"I'm…giving you my umbrella."

The soaking girl looked at the umbrella and held out her hand, taking it and raising it above her and the boy's head.

Gwen walked on a ways before turning back and approaching the girl again.

"You can't stay here in the rain," Gwen said, touching the girl on the shoulder.

"Not much for me to do about it is there."

Gwen looked at her, not sure what to do but positive that she couldn't leave them there.

"Come to my shop." Gwen was taken aback at her own words. She had her own shop now! "At least until the rain stops."

The dark haired girl squinted more, looked at the soaking boy in her arms. Observing this, Gwen said, "He'll get sick if you stay here."

Finally, the girl nodded and stood up, rousing the boy from his huddled position. As Gwen led them back to the shop, she wondered what she had gotten herself into…again.

Gwen looked at her two guests as soon as they entered the shop, dripping all over the wooden floor as they, in turn, looked at her and every which way. "What are we supposed to do here?" the girl asked. "As soon as it stops raining we'll be right back out there."

"You mean you don't have anywhere to live?" A stupid question, Gwen thought.

"No, we just like to hang around in the rain, getting our bums wet. When it floods we like to go for long swims."

"Oh." They stood staring at the floors, the ceilings. Finally Gwen flung herself towards the kitchen. "I'll go put on some tea. And I'll have to get sandwiches from…somewhere."

She disappeared for a moment before popping her head in again, "have a seat, will you?"

She ran out the back door, through the rain all the way to the Three Broomsticks where she purchased some food and tea things and was back home like the wind. She entered the room with a table and the food floating behind her while she carried a tray of tea.

Before she could say "here you go," Gwen's two guests had attacked the tray of sandwiches, each taking a handful, which Gwen didn't know was possible with sandwiches. In the end, Gwen sat watching them eat as her stomach complained to her. But it had to settle for tea for the moment. "My name is Gwen," she said when their sandwich scarfing appeared to slow. "I didn't catch your names."

"I'm Murcia and this is my brother, Lares," the older guest said with a thumb pointed towards the youth. "He doesn't talk too much."

"Did you grow up in Scotland?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You have an accent."

"Oh that. Sure."

Gwen watched Murcia and Lares eat some more. "What are you going to do after the rain stops?"

Murcia shrugged. "Don't know. Go out and do something I guess."

"You can't stay out there. It's only going to get colder."

Again she shrugged. "Not much to be done about it. Death eaters threw us out of the house when they found stuff in it they didn't like. We don't have anywhere to go."

"All my stuff was in there," Lares said, speaking up.

"What kind of stuff, Murcia?" Gwen asked.

"Old knickknacks that dad sent over. My aunt had left them at the house a long time ago and he was getting rid of them. Wanted to know if I wanted any. Lot of good they did me. I sold some of it to some trader and his dog thing not too long ago, just before the D.E.'s came and tossed us. I actually thought they'd let us alone after they searched the house and saw the stuff, but then they saw the letter my dad wrote with the stuff. Everything went mad after that."

"Really?" Gwen got excited. "An antiques trader?"

"Something like that."

"And they were okay with everything until the letter? That's odd. Do you think any of those things are still in your house?"

Murcia said, annoyed, "beats me. You're welcome to check. I'm not going over there."

"Murcia, if I let you and Lares stay here for a while, would you let me have those items to sell in my shop?"

"You'd let us stay here for a bunch of junk?"

"Yes, I would."

"Well sure, if you can get the stuff back. I don't care about it aside from sickles."

"Brilliant! Um." Where would they stay? "I'll set something up for you upstairs." Almost running up the ladder, she looked around to see what could be arranged. Only one bed, obviously, and a dresser, cabinet and chair. A few old shutters sat in the corner. There was a lot of space on the floor, as it was an attic. Thinking for a moment, Gwen transformed two of the shutters into small beds and the remaining shutters she connected into a folding screen, allowing them, and herself, some privacy in the far corner. It would have to do for the time being.

As soon as they had finished eating, Murcia and Lares went up the ladder and into bed, both no doubt exhausted. Finally, Gwen could eat something. As she walked back to the Three Broomsticks, she wondered if it was a good idea to leave Murcia and Lares there alone, but she was hungry. And now was feeding time.

Her stomach gave a satisfied gurgle as she filled it with soup and sandwich. Soon, however, she found herself back at home, guffaws and conversation replaced by gentle snoring. She had just sat down to brainstorm possible shop names when the clock she had put on the shelf behind the counter chimed four o'clock, and she remembered that she had to meet someone in an hour. A certain blonde. 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: The world of the Harry Potter stories is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling._

What had he said? Try to be inconspicuous. A disguise. By the time she left, the getup she had put on wouldn't fool anyone who knew her well, but it would do. She had straightened and colored her hair with a charm spell and put on a pair of glasses, finally throwing on a dark cloak to fit in better with the atmosphere and patronage of the Hog's Head Inn.

The rain had slackened and more people frequented the village roads now, going to and from work and home. Despite its competition with the Three Broomsticks, Hog's Head had its own brand of clientele, which Gwen had the privilege of observing when she entered the pub. One rambunctious group had gathered around a table, guffawing and throwing cards on its wooden surface. She recognized no one at there and could see nothing of the faces in the corners. So she sat down at a vacant table. He said five o'clock, so where was he?

As she brooded in the corner, a large, hairy man approached her. He was not as tall as she remembered Hagrid being, but large enough to intimidate nonetheless.

"May I help you?" she asked hesitantly.

"You can stop your blubbering and let me sit down," he said as he made his way over to the chair across from her.

"I'm sorry…" The voice didn't match, and sounded awfully similar.

"Don't be sorry. Be smart. We have business." Gwen squinted and blinked at the man.

Lowering her voice, she said, "Draco…Harry?"

"Took you long enough," he said, likewise decreasing his volume. "Now, I feel that our recent strategy is not working. Draco Malfoy shows no sign of turning."

"It's not like it would turn the tide of the war anyway."

"It's only a war underground," he said.

"That doesn't mean it isn't one. People are dying, and some are fighting against it so that sounds like a war to me."

"Anyway, we need a new approach. A new strategy."

"What have you been doing all this time?" Gwen whispered loudly. "Sleeping in a cave? Why aren't you doing anything to turn things around?"

"I've been doing some research," he said. "Have you ever seen a genie?"

"Of course not," Gwen replied. "No one has as far as I know. They're legend; I've read about them in books."

"Maybe, but no less real. Just rare. Now, if what they say about them is true, we could turn the war in our favor with it. The unspeakable power at our disposal!"

"Yes," Gwen said. "But that's assuming what you say is true. Where are we supposed to find one if they're so rare?"

"I have it on good authority," he said, "that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is currently in possession of one."

"But Dra—Harr—but that means it's in the hands of the enemy! Hogwarts is overrun. You know this."

"They can't be in control of something they don't know about." Gwen blinked and he continued. "The death eaters—Snape—they don't know it's there. It's McGonagal's doing."

"But won't she use it?"

"No," he said, rolling his eyes and taking a sip from the drink the old man running the bar had just brought over. Waiting for him to leave, he said, "you can count on her not to. She won't' fool with something she doesn't understand or thinks would be unethical. Our only chance is if we get in there and get the lamp."

"Our only chance?" Gwen raised her eyebrow. "There's no other way? That's unlikely."

"You have a better plan, do you?" The hairy man on the other side of the table looked severely at her. "No."

"It's a ridiculous idea," she said, defeated in her last argument.

He leaned back. "Fine. Then I have a deal for you. I know you're trying to start a business, and you need ingredients. Here's my deal. You help me get the genie's lamp and I'll tell you how to get into the Forbidden Forest so you can collect to your heart's content."

"It's impossible," Gwen said, pursing her lips. "All of Hogwarts's entrances are too well guarded. And even if you or I got in, we'd never be able to get very far. We'd be recognized…or not recognized and suspected immediately."

"Don't worry about that. The first step is getting in and I know a way. A secret passage."

The witch tilted her head back and stared him down. "There are only six passages and, like I said, they're all guarded. There's no point in trying."

"I didn't say it was one of the six."

The table of players erupted in a fresh foray of laughter. Rain splat against the windows and beer spilled on the floor across the room, causing wet without and within. Gwen leaned forward once more, "it's suicide."

"But if we succeed," Harry said, earnestness speeding his speech, "we could be doing great good."

"But there's no guarantee that _anything_ would happen."

"Even if not, we'd be in a strategic position. And that's valuable!"

Under consideration, it was true. It _was_ strategic. She could easily access information for the Order and who knew what she could do to help people inside, who were no doubt under a lot of observation.

"I'm starting a business," she finally said decidedly. "I can't go sneaking around in Hogwarts to possibly get killed by Death Eaters or maybe even You-Know-Who himself. And you should be thinking about other things, like how you're going to defeat him, not chasing after myths…that is, if you're really Harry Potter."

"That's exactly why I want to do this," he said. "It's our best chance against him."

She paused. "Like I said, I can't with the business."

"You're not going to get much business until the Dark Lord is taken care of. If we succeed, you're store will get a lot of business being owned by the woman who helped bring an end to the darkness. Plus you'll be getting more merchandise. And you can even document our findings with the lamp if you like. It would do you loads of good."

"Much easier said than done. I don't know…"

Gwen scratched her fingernail into a crack on the table and stared out the dark, grime-stained window.

"I'll need some time to get the shop going. If you give me that, I'll do it."

"It's your, but you'll need to get going by Easter. It's important."

"Now, what's this secret passageway you were talking about? To get into the school? Where is it?"

Harry squirmed in his seat, "well, that's the difficult part. See, I'm not sure if it exists yet."

"What?" Gwen gawked. "How can you not be sure if it exists yet?"

"Because-because I've heard rumors about _plans_ for it to be opened up."

The witch shook her head, her mouth hanging open. "Then why would we even try going that way!"

"Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. We'll try anyway. I know where the opening will be though! And it's right in this very room."

Gwen looked around. "This gets more ridiculous by the minute," she murmured.

"No!" he cried. "No it doesn't! Because I'll show you as soon as Easter comes. Besides, you've already said you'll help me. If I'm wrong then you won't have to worry about a thing. And if I'm right, we'll have had an adventure. "

"For all your running around you sure haven't done much to help matters with the world right now."

"It might not seem like it," he said, leaning forward over the table, "but things will benefit from this. From my actions."

"I don't think you realize how your _in_action has affected people. They all believe you must be doing something important, but this whole time you've been doing nothing but waiting and chasing after legends."

A scowl greeted her at this. "Sometimes all we have is the slightest bit of nonsense to chase after. And you've followed me on nothing but the smallest bit of nonsense, haven't you. You've done what I've asked and listened just for the slimmest hope that it might actually do something. It's the same thing here, just with something you can't see."

She couldn't argue with this logic. It was all about hope. "Can we agree that we're all a bunch of gits chasing after possibilities at least, and not deceive ourselves?"

He smirked, "sure, whatever suits you. I'll be a git if you'll be a git. And anyway, what else do we have to go on? Nothing. No one can see any other way of bringing an end to this or any change whatsoever. So we might as well chase after fairytales."

Gwen looked at the witches and wizards around her, imagining how each must try to go about their normal lives with the knowledge that their freedom had been replaced with fear and violence. Their blood determined their fates, and the racism permeating the world couldn't be stopped by any one person. What about two? No. But maybe two with powerful magic. It could come to nothing, but if genies did exist, they could save millions of lives and put things back. Though it wouldn't be the same. There would still be the hate, but others would have learned, would have seen and understood what they had to protect.

"You really care, don't you? I guess you'd have to, to chase after possible nothings. It might be a slim chance, but you're right."

"Of course I am. Of course I'm right. I'm Harry Potter."

A man at a nearby table turned around, full to bursting with mead, and roared a deep, gurgling laugh. "No! I am! I'm Harry Potter!" His jovial thundering filled the pub as he continued to insist that he was the Boy Who Lived. Soon the pub owner, an old man with a surplus of hair on his face, stomped over and tried to shush the man. "You want to bring all the death eaters to my pub!"

"How dare you," he sized the barkeep up and down. "Don't you know who I _am_! I'm Harry Potter!" Gwen thought he thoroughly believed himself, even as he continued to rumble happily. "I want to tell you all," he said, standing up now, tipping over his table as the witch next to him tried to calm him desperately, "that I'm going to free you all! I won't let them take us! This won't go on!" His face saddened. "What happened to Jim won't happen to you. No more muggles will suffer, especially," he blubbered, "especially the young ones. But I'll get 'im!" He cheered. "I'll get Voldemort, don't you worry!" A series of loud poppings sounded outside, and a second later the death eaters had crashed through the door.

"Please, Thatcher, sit down," whispered the Hog's Head owner. But Thatcher would not, he could only stare stupidly and wide eyed at the approaching figures who soon pushed the old man and screaming woman out of the way, apprehending the drunken man. "I'll fix it, I'll fix it" he muttered, his eyes wider and wider each step closer towards the exit. Prisoner and death eaters exited, leaving the pub to go about its business.

Two of the nasty looking death eaters stayed behind to watch the goings on in the pub. The barkeep looked at the floor before exiting the room up a shadowy flight of stairs while the woman who had been Thatcher's companion wiped her eyes and hastily left the pub, keeping her head down as she swept between the guards at the door.

"I forget sometimes how hated I am." Harry looked genuinely surprised.

"This is war," said Gwen matter-of-factly." It's not a make-believe scenario for class. People die every day. I'm only just beginning to realize how bad it is."

"Which just proves that I'm right to be going after this as I am," he said, putting his hairy fist on the table. "We can free that bloke and everyone else."

"I know," Gwen looked at the door. "How—do you cope? You seem like you're all alone, at least I only ever see you alone. I don't know how you have done all this time by yourself."

"I've had you, haven't I?"

Gwen felt a smile coming but crushed it before it reached the corners of her mouth. Glancing back at the bearded man before her, she looked at the eyes in the tangled mess of the hair, trying to get a sense of the man behind the Polyjuice potion. Instead she saw a smirk oddly placed in the context of a grizzly man.

She looked down, to hide her warm face, and said, "That's not much in the way of company. And anyway, you've had your two friends from school to keep you company. Where are they?"

"I…I left them somewhere safe for the time being."

Gwen looked at him quizzically. "Why do you need me to help you if you've got them? If their reputation says anything for them, they would never be satisfied in staying hidden and far from danger, at least not while _you_ were in it."

"What I mean is," he recovered, "they're helping me in another avenue that might prove beneficial to the world if this one fails. We decided we'd get more done if we split up. So, here I am."

"But why me?"

He paused and looked at her, cocking his head. After a moment, he said, "I trust you. I trusted you from the moment I saw you, actually."

"That doesn't sound like a very smart thing to do in times like these."

"Something in your face."

"Not a good thing to put your faith in either."

"You've already proved it well-placed."

Changing the subject, Gwen said, "What would you be doing if everything were normal now?"

"Now? I reckon I'd be in school."

"What do you think you'd be preparing for?"

He pulled on his beard and searched the room with his eyes. "A job with the ministry maybe. I've been unsure of that for awhile."

"The ministry," Gwen repeated, surprised. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be interested in politics. Too corrupt for you or something. Not exciting enough."

"I don't know," said Harry, scooting back. "Just looking at different possibilities."

"You're so different than I expected."

"You never expect reality, do you?" he said, bitterness in his voice.

The looks in the burly man's face didn't suit him in the least, and what might have been a flattering conversation ended up being awkward.

The room began to feel too small for Gwen to bear being in any longer.

"—You...probably can't stay out much longer," she said, hesitantly. "Your hour will be up sooner than you'll know."

"Trying to get rid of me?"

"If we stay out much longer it will get past curfew."

"Not for two or three hours."

"Still, it might be best."

"Alright," he said, his face dropping briefly before recovering itself with a sarcastic smile. "But I'll be walking you back to the shop just in case."

She sighed, but nodded. Outside the pub, the chill air seeped through cracks in doors and clothing pores, leaving none immune; however, the minute they were outside, Gwen would have taken the cold over a walk back with "Hairy" Potter. As it happened, she got both. Silence took over the conversation as they set out, a breadth of a few paces kept between them.

Harry suddenly paused and bolted down an alleyway. Gwen stared in confusion after him, and had begun to follow him when he yelled at her to wait. A moment later he emerged, much shorter and no longer hairy; instead he wore a black cloak which covered his face in shadow.

"Oh," she said. "It's a good thing we left."

"Would have been a bit awkward."

They began walking again. Presently, Gwen's curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned over, beginning to pull back the hood. He recoiled and pulled her hand away, shouting, "What are you doing?"

"I just wanted to see Harry Potter," the witch replied teasingly.

"Y-you can't. The Polyjuice Potion hasn't worn off completely so the beard is gone and his face isn't too pretty without it."

"Sorry…" The wind picked up and she struggled to keep her cloak from blowing every which way and a quick look sideways revealed Harry in the same predicament. Simultaneously making a break for the shield of a building, Gwen tripped over she knew not what and landed hard on the cobblestone. Next thing she knew, she was being lifted up by Harry. As he pulled her up, she caught a glimpse of steel blue in the shadow of his hood; as he assisted her, his hands cupping her elbows, she cocked her head and raised her brow at him, feeling that something didn't make sense, though unsure as to exactly what at the moment.

By the time they reached her door, Gwen's bones had received a thorough chilling, and she remained confused as to why she felt something amiss.

"Goodnight," she said at the entryway.

"I'll keep in touch," he said. "Look for my owl."

As soon as she stepped into the small interior and shut the door safely between them, Gwen sat down in the rocking chair, best for thinking. However, ten minutes of rocking did nothing to fix the problem. So she went to bed.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: The world of the Harry Potter stories is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling._

Lares, Gwen discovered, had gotten up before her, while his sister slept away up the ladder. He had, in fact, swept the entire store and straightened all of the merchandise on the shelves.

Astonishment played on Gwen's slow-morning mind, and she stared as he skittered around her, tidying and straightening. With a blink and even fewer words, Gwen shuffled to the kitchen and put on some tea.

Later that day, Gwen obtained directions to Lares and Murcia's house to scout around a bit. The sun shone for the first time in days, which gave the illusion of warmth to the inside viewer of the outdoors. Apparating to the edge of the village, she walked the long, cold way, worrying about the shop's safety in the hands of Lares and Mercia. But she would think about it later, because she had just arrived. A quick stroll by revealed a lone death-eater at the house's entrance, but whether more lay waiting inside she couldn't say.

The other houses in the small neighborhood twinned each other; but for the death eater in front, Gwen couldn't have told them apart.

She made a long round-about towards the back of the building, making pretense that she was strolling along practicing a harmless spell with her wand. The death eater glanced her way but showed no more curiosity than that.

Despite the empty appearance of the backyard, there could have been any number of spells placed in behind the fence, a magical booby-trap playground.

Glancing back in the direction of the guard, Gwen whisked her wand around, looking for any signs of hidden safeguards, alarms, hexes or curses. Surprisingly, she found none aside from a few Whistler Charms and Pixie Dox Spells. Over the gate, past the garden hedges, and to the front door she went, keeping low. The door was unlocked, and she opened it slowly, whispering sensing spells over and over under her breath as she peaked in her head.

The stairs to the attic were in a closet behind some hanging coats. Gwen couldn't help thinking how little protection had been set at the house if something had been important enough to confiscate the property of the people who lived there.

The coats smelled of moth balls inside the closet, and the stairs bore dust disturbed by a flurry of footprints. The attic itself had been ransacked, books and papers strewn about, chests turned over on their sides and various nick-nacks falling all over themselves. She set about looking. It was no easy task, as they weren't piled neatly in once place. She ended up filling one of the chests with everything she found in the room, papers and books aside, resolving to sort through them later.

"Wingardium Leviosa." She sent the chest floating behind her. She had almost reached the back door when she spied something from the doorway of the living room. On the mantle sat a picture of someone Gwen knew; the stern look was unmistakable. Minerva McGonagal's moving image sat above Lares and Mercia's fireplace. The chest hit the wall as she entered the room, making it spin, but she paid little attention. McGonagal stared at her disapprovingly as Gwen reached out her hand and clutched the frame, but no sooner had she touched it when a whistle, loud and shrill, sounded throughout the house. "No! Stupid! Stupid!" The frame still in her hands and the chest in tow, she sprinted towards the back door, whispering more abuse at herself. But the death eater from the front blocked her way out. "What are you…" but she didn't get very far in her statement before Gwen turned on her heels and ran in the other direction. Hearing a loud thud, Gwen turned around to find that she had accidentally knocked the death eater unconscious with the chest.

Out in the sunlit chill and past the fence, the witch disapparated from the area a hastily and ended up on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

"What's that," Mercia asked as Gwen walked through the door, carefully maneuvering the chest to the ground.

"This is from your house," she said, opening the lid. "I left a death eater with a nasty bump on her head."

"Brilliant. Oh yes. Serves her right. How was everything there?"

"Kind of a mess in the attic. Oh, and," she brought the picture forward, "I found this."

"What, Aunt Minerva?"

"She's your aunt?" Gwen said, unsure whether the news was good or bad.

"Yeah. We're Lares and Mercia McGonagal. You didn't know that?"

Gwen shook her head. "That explains so much about why the death eaters would confiscate your stuff if it came from her."

"Don't know why they'd care, unless there's something in there they didn't like." Mercia walked apathetically over to the shelf where she had set her sandwich; Gwen eyed the mustard residue she left on the shelf with dis approval. "Or was in there," she added, thinking of the lack of security.

"Whatever," Mercia said, taking a bite of ham and bread. "I'm glad you're back home safe and bla blab la. Oh, I went and ate all your crackers."

Gwen mumbled something and went ahead searching the chest. She had no idea what the items were worth, aside from a few useless items she picked up in her haste.

Gwen spent a lot of time advertising the shop, with little success. But customers trickled in, offering enough patronage to pay the rent. At one point, she asked Jenson Cole if he would come and appraise the goods from the McGonagal's home. He came the next day, told her much of it was useless, some of it was worth a few sickles, for curiosity's sake, and a very few were actually valuable. She arranged them accordingly, putting protective spells on the priceless pieces.

Lares and Mercia helped with the shop more than Gwen could have hoped, and the arrangement went on very well: she got free workers and they free room and board. Overall the arrangement suited everyone well.

Harry sent a small black owl every Thursday, mostly reminding her of her obligation, but also giving instruction on what she would need to bring, as they would likely be there for awhile. The owl would wrap at her window, and it would be opened as soon as the beak met glass. Mercia would get curious as to who could be sending all the letter, but Gwen just grinned and curled up more comfortably with the paper in her hands.

One night, Harry, in the guise of Draco Malfoy once more, came knocking at her window instead of the owl.

"Time to go," he whispered when she opened it.

"Alright, I'll meet you outside."

Downstairs, Mercia stood up seeing Fred and George's bag on Gwen's shoulders.

"Where are _you_ going?"

"On a business trip," she replied, making her way to the hidden stash of pranking items. She thought she'd utilize the tiem at Hogwarts to try and sell to some students. "I'm going to be collecting in the Forbidden Forestso it could be some while before I'm back. A month at least."

"But—what will we do here?"  
"You two will be alright," she said, stuffing a few pranks in her bag and standing up. "I'll keep in contact with you if you need help. But Lares could probably run this place himself by now. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Outside, harry emerged from the shadows. "Hello again," a smirk spread across his borrowed face.

"Hullo," she echoed, walking up to him with a cheery smile on her face.

"What? Happy to see me?"

"Not so very much," she said, her smile widening.

"well, let's get going, shall we?"

The Hog's Head Inn sat dark and quiet on the road. No one seemed to be about as curfew approached. Gwen put a muting spell on their footsteps as they walked through the interior. Harry led her to a portrait of a young girl on the mantle and turned to Gwen. "I'll be right back. While I'm gone, I need you to get to know the painting so she'll let us through. Gain her trust."

"But I…" Before she could finish her objection, he had exited the room; Gwen turned back to the painting, who stared at her expectantly. "Hello." Gwen rocked back and forth on her heals. "My name's Gwen. I don't guess you talk much."

The painting continued to gaze at her, a small smile crossing her young lips.

Gwen chuckles nervously, "I like your frame. Looks comfortable. Although I guess it's kind of a pain, not being able to move around or travel. I used to feel like that, and I still do sometimes. It's not so bad. Still, with all these fowl death eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named around it's hard to feel like I've gotten any freedom. Because I really haven't if you look at it that way."

And still the girl stared, her expression unchanging. She had, however, sat down on the painted floor of her frame. Gwen looked back, but Harry had yet to reappear. "I'm a half-blood. My dad's a muggle, and my mom told me that the first time he learned she was a witch, he squinted at her, like this." She scrunched up her mouth and eyes, and the little girl smiled. "And then he walked away. But an hour later he was at her door asking her if magic could remove stains and they've been together ever since. He's fascinated by it all, which made growing up a lot of fun. He was more excited about my Hogwarts letter than I was!"

At that moment, someone Gwen had never seen before came through the door Harry had just gone through. He was young and wore Hufflepuff robes; nevertheless, Gwen pulled out her wand, aiming it at the stranger. The boy cried out, "Gwen, no! It's me!"

"Harry?" she lowered her wand. "What did you do?"

"I drank Polyjuice Potion with Twinnie Honeycotter's fingernail in it."

"Never heard of him," Gwen said blankly.

"He's a second year," Harry said, seeming to think that sufficient explanation.

"How did you get his fingernail? And how did you change when you'd already taken potion for Draco Malfoy?"

"Um…I—don't know. It just worked, I guess." He walked towards the painting. "How are you two getting along?"

"Not sure," Gwen said, looking up at the young girl. "She hasn't said much."

"Well, let's see." He looked up at her and said, "We need to get into Hogwarts."

"Please," Gwen added.

The girl considered them before standing up and holding out her hand, which signaled the frame swinging open, revealing a dark hole large enough for a human to pass through.

Brass lamps lit the way along the smooth dirt passage. "Harry," Gwen said. "If it's Easter break, how are we going to move around with no students to blend in with?"

"Do you remember the Room of Requirement? Back when I was leading the DA lessons?"

"Yeah, vaguely."

"A bunch of students have made it a kind of hideout from Snape and the Carrows. I know a few are actually living there because they've gone rogue."

"The Carrows?" Gwen said.

"Yeah," he replied. "two Death Eater siblings. Couple of blighters, not very smart. The sister has taken over teaching muggle studies and the brother's got Defense Against the Dark Arts, or Dark Arts as it's called now. Horrible stuff goes on in there. He makes students hurt each other."

"But how can they…"

"You forget who they follow. Don't forget what kind of witches and wizards we're dealing with."

"How can anyone be that way. Anyone. Some people are crazy, but the rest?"

"Maybe we're all a little crazy. And anyway, it's easy to get into some things but nearly impossible to get out." He grew quiet.

After a moment, Gwen said, "maybe some people are cowards." She regretted it the moment she said it because Harry wheeled on her, "Don't talk about things you don't understand." He glared at her and continued walking in moody silence.

Presently they came to a right turn, after which were some stairs leading to another door identical to the one they came in. Harry stopped before opening it. "Now there might be some students who stayed over Easter Holiday. If that happens, let's have you do the talking, hm?"

"I guess that's fine," Gwen said hesitantly.

The light form the room behind the open door was blinding compared with the accustomed dimness of the passage behind, and stepping out, they were immediately accosted by five students.

Gwen recognized one of them as Neville Longbottom, a seventh year Gryffindor and friend of Harry's. One belonged to Hufflepuff, and the rest to Gryffindor. "What's your business here?" Neville asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Gwen began. "I'm Gwen Partle and this is Twinnie Honeycotter. I've actually finished school here, but Twinnie is a second year."

"I know Twinnie," he said, smiling at the young wizard. "Why aren't you on holiday?"

"He and I have been on the run," Gwen said. "He suggested the DA, so here we are. I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," he said with a smile, though he winced for he had a nasty bruise on his cheek. "the more the merrier!"

He was completely sincere in this, for he had soon arranged for two beds for their disposal, which Gwen was thankful for. The pillow welcomed her head, and Gwen was soon asleep. However, it seemed that only a moment had passed before she was awakened roughly by Harry, or Twinnie. "What?" she mumbled.

"We have to go," he whispered.

She sat up. "Did you drink more Polyjuice Potion?"

"Yes," he grabbed her hand. "We have to go looking as soon as possible, and that's now."

All of the refugees snored peacefully as Gwen and harry snuck out the door. The hallway offered little light, but Gwen hesitated to light her wand. After following blindly, Gwen finally inquired as to where they were going.

"Well," he whispered, "according to my research, we're going…" A light shone brightly in the their faces.

"Amycus Carrow," Harry whispered.

"Well, well," Carrow said. "What have we got here?"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: The world of the Harry Potter stories is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling._

If someone traveled around the world in search of the most unattractive faces, Gwen thought the searcher would find none uglier than Amycus Carrow. This she settled on as he moved his wand back and forth between her face and Twinnie-Harry's.

"Why Twinnie," Carrow cackled, throwing the light on Harry's face. "You're supposed to be home on Holiday. And you," he whisked the wand towards Gwen. "Don't recognize you."

"Seventh year, Sir," she said. "I didn't…"

"I didn't say you could talk, did I?" He smiled, exposing yellow teeth. He flicked his wand, and Gwen felt a burning on her hand, and upon looking down with a wince, she saw a red welt appeared on the back of her thumb. She looked back at Carrow, astonished.

"Yeah, you like that, huh," said he. "Now," the smile disappeared. "Explain yourelves before I take you to detention."

Gwen was afraid to speak again, but was forced to when he barked at them to hurry up. "L-like I said," she stuttered. "I'm a seventh year, Samantha Tinker, studying to be a Healer, so I haven't taken the advanced…Dark Arts course."

Carrow's brow lowered closer towards his eyes, "everyone has to take Dark Arts. No exceptions."

"I've been skipping class," she muttered.

"You've been what!" His face turned red. "Skipping class! Think you're entitled to skip class, eh! Crucio!"

A tremor went through her body as a thousand insects buried their stingers in her insides. The pain pulsed like a heartbeat through her spine, sending her writhing to the floor. She opened her mouth, nothing came out. Every pulse sent a new kind of pain through her, and she felt as though her insides were gradually being separated from her body.

Harry stood paralyzed where he stood, but Gwen hardly noticed. Her whole being concentrated on the sensations moving through it. "Stop that, Carrow!" cried a Scotch-heavy voice. From her twisted and hunched position on the floor, Gwen saw Professor McGonagal approaching in her nightclothes.

"Students out past curfew," he said, still pointing the wand at Gwen," under the most suspicious of circumstances."

McGonagal straightened herself, adding greater height, and said," I will take control from here."

"I'm sure you will," he slithered. "But I'm going to deal with these two myself." He kicked Gwen in the leg. "Get up! You and your friend are going to the dungeons for your detention."

"Carrow!" McGonagal stood resolutely between him and the two students. "This is not necessary. I will take full responsibility and see that these two are punished appropriately. You can go about your business."

Upon scrutiny under one of her fiercest stares, Carrow soon turned. "Fine. I'll expect to hear about it in detail." He began to walk away before adding, "And I'll be making a report for the headmaster."

Waiting for him to disappear down the next hallway, McGonagal turned to them with a sigh. "Come with me."

McGonagal's office made use of organization. Nothing lay where it shouldn't, everything being exactly where it should. Few pictures hung on the wall, save family portraits and a painting of an old woman with purple robes and a pince-nez. One black and white portrait of a young man did not move as the others did. A large globe sat in the corner behind the desk.

The professor sat down at her desk and scrutinized the young people. After the standard McGonagal stare, Gwen squirmed, signaling the older woman to speak. "Gwenolyne Partle, what do you mean by coming here and sneaking the halls with a second year who's supposed to be on holiday?"

"Um, well," she said. "It's a long story."

"I have nowhere to go."

Gwen glanced at Harry, who gave her a warning look. "Well, we had…I mean, I've recently opened up a shop in Hogsmeade. Twinnie came into my shop this morning looking to hide from Death Eaters and kind of…pulled me into the muck, as it were, and we had been running all day when we suddenly blacked out and ended up here."

"That is the most ridiculous story I have ever heard."

"Oh," Gwen laughed nervously. "I doubt that, Professor."

"Try me."

Gwen was panicking; she always got completely tongue tied with McGonagal at school. Now was no different. "We're on the run, it's true," she said.

"So you managed to sneak into a school full of the very people you're running away from?"

"It seemed like a good idea when we were dreaming it up."

"But how did you get in?"

"Why," gwen stammered. "We walked in. Used a Confundus Charm on the guard in one of the passages.

"And how would that have worked on a dementor?"

"I do know how to summon a patronus," Gwen said, feigning insult.

McGonagal sat down behind the desk. "What am I to do with you, hm? Twinnie I suppose you may remain here as you are a student. But Miss Partle, you must leave as soon as can be."

"But I…"

"It will not be long before they have discovered that you do not belong here, and you do not want to be here when they do. I don't think you realize the seriousness of the world's situation right now. People have been tortured for less than entering a heavily guarded castle filled with Death Eaters in the middle of the night. Have you had your head in a hole?" Gwen looked at the floor and McGonagal sighed before continuing, "You can't leave tonight, at any rate. I suppose I will have to put you up somewhere. You will stay in my office for the time being."

At that moment, the door burst open and Amycus Carrow stomped into the room, followed by someone who could only be his sister. "What can I help you with, Amycus and Alecto," McGonagal said, annoyance blistering in her voice.

Carrow shrieked, "That girl is not who she says she is! No one by the name of Samantha Tinker has ever gone here."

"No not here!" affirmed his sister. "She is my responsibility, Carrow," McGonagal thundered, standing up from her chair.

"Ah ah ah," mocked the she-Carrow. "The Headmaster says he would like us to question the liar."

"Does he really," the older witch said skeptically. "He told you personally at this hour of the night."

The two smiled, exposing twin sets of yellow teeth. "Yes," he-Carrow said. "She's coming with us , McGonagal."

"We won't take no for an answer," added she-Carrow.

The professor turned her head to Gwen, whose eyes widened and hands trembled. "I'm sorry," she said.

The Carrows pushed Gwen out the door and down towards the Dark Arts classroom. Gloom pervaded the room, and dark looking books and items lay on shelves and desks. "Now," he-Carrow said, circling her. "What's your name?"

"I told you," Gwen said, shrinking from his wand. "Samantha Tinker."

"That's a lie! Crucio!"

Pain racked her body once more. When her eyes opened again, she was looking up at them from the floor. "How do you know," she gasped, "that my name isn't Sam-Samantha Tinker."

The two blinked. She-Carrow knelt down, putting her wand between Gwen's eyes. "It doesn't matter. We don't think you are, so you must not be."

Another spasm of pain passed from Gwen's toes, to her eyes, and back again.

"Tell us who you are!" he said.

"And how you got in her!" shrieked his sister.

"It's the truth!"Gwen cried, tears streaming from her eyes. He kicked her thigh, sending her sprawling on her stomach. They both knelt down before her now. "Look," he said. "All we want to know is how you got here and who you are. It's not so hard, unless you're too stupid to know it."

Gwen looked into their eyes and something hot bubbled up inside her. With momentous effort, Gwen gathered all the saliva she could muster in her mouth and sent it flying at the two ugly faces before her. They cursed at her, and began a rain of kicks and slaps and punches on the figure lying on the floor.

"Maybe she'll feel more like talking once she stiffens up from that little present," she-Carrow cackled.

"Maybe," he agreed. "One more gift before we go." He waved his wand at the girl lying curled on the floor. Gwen felt her index finger bend backwards, and a series of cracks and pops sounded from it. The two laughed and closed the door as Gwen let out one last scream before all went dark.

When Gwen awoke, she couldn't be sure how much time had passed. She no longer lay on the classroom floor; instead, she awoke stiff and cold on the hard stone of the dungeons. Upon moving she found that the slightest stirring caused her head to throb and every member of her being to scream for her to stop. But she had to move. Starting with her fingers—except for her index finger of her right hand, which was slightly deformed and could not, she found, be moved even if she tried—she gradually got her body to respond to her wishes, though still with great effort.

Feeling her side, she realized that the Carrows must have taken her wand while she was passed out on the floor. She moaned.

For what seemed an eternity, she stayed in the cell, sometimes walking around the room to work her legs from their stiffness, sometimes working her finger to see if she could fix it through pure will. The room lay bare of any furniture, and every morning a dish of water and a bit of bread appeared in the corner of the cell. She had no bed upon which to rest her head, so she had to get what sleep she could on the floor. Only once did the Carrows come for another torture session, in which she revealed that she was not in fact a student. But they got no more out of her, and seemed to forget the prisoner soon after.

When she was about to fall asleep one night, her bruised and battered body begging for relief, scuffling came from the outside of her door. And as her eyes began to close, the door swung open with a pop and a few sparks. There, standing in the doorway, was Draco Malfoy.

"Draco," she mumbled. "What are you doing here?" Her body had already fallen asleep and left her mind behind. None of her limbs would move yet, and it was so comfortable; like being covered by a large blanket.

"Not Draco," he said, rushing towards her. "It's me, Harry. C'mon, time to get up."

Huffing and puffing, he managed to pull her up from the floor, and she, leaning hard against him, tried to wake herself up. "Sorry," she murmured tiredly.

"S'alright," he grunted, dragging her to the door. Once outside her prison, he set her down on the first step in the flight of stairs leading to the main floor. "Look," said he, "you've got to pull yourself together. I can't carry you the whole way."

"I don't," she labored, "even have a wand. How can I help now?"

"You can because you have to. I'm telling you to. I don't care how tired you are."

She scowled. She wasn't just tired, she was bruised and sore all over. Surely he must see that. She must _look _like she'd gotten her brains beat out of her. With much effort and as little reliance on Harry as possible, she dragged herself to her feet, clutching the wall.

"Brilliant!" he said. "C'mon."


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: The world of the Harry Potter stories is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling._

Part 12

Harry led her through the school once more. Their footfall echoed through the castle's corridors, the only sound reaching Gwen's ears. Every corner turned showed an empty hallway, and the wizard flew through each one with abandon. He left Gwen limping behind a few times and had to wait for her to catch up. "Why is no one around," she said upon dragging herself up to him. "And how were you able to get to me?"

"I used some of Fred and George's jokes. Made quite the distraction, actually." They continued on and presently heard voices coming.

"You have any more jokes left?" she whispered, grabbing the wall.

"Nope." Harry looked around hurriedly. They slipped into the first room they could find and closed the door. Once the voices had passed, Gwen realized that they stood in the Carrows' Dark Arts classroom. She felt a shiver go through her spine, and she wondered where the bit of dark red on the floor had come from, and if it hadn't been from her.

A bag sat on one of the desks towards the front of the room with much of its contents spilled onto the floor. "My bag!" she cried, pushing towards the front of the classroom. Most of Fred and George's merchandise lay in the corner of the bag where she had left it, though some seemed to be missing. A necklace she had gotten from her mother was gone too, but as far as she could tell the rest was intact. She found Rena's potion on the floor as well, forgetting she had packed it. "And here's my wand!" she said, inspecting it and cradling it in her arms.

"Are you ready yet," said Harry crossly.

"Yes," she replied, a bounce in her limp as she walked back to him.

"C'mon then." They raced through the hall as quickly as Gwen could go until they bumped into a death eater while going up a flight of stairs. "What are you doing out of bed?" he yelled at them. Gwen racked her brain for what to say, Harry looking at her uselessly, but the pounding in her head made clear thought difficult. Feeling her pocket, she found the Renaculum and, quickly as she could, took a swig.

Her mind turned blanker than blank, and she began to panic as her mouth began to move without her willing it to. But after a bit, she stopped trying to stop it and simply listened to herself. "…and my mum says it's good for me to take walks but I say she's full of daft looney pig-monkeys, but she insists anyway that it's good for me so I go then my father says my brother's not good enough for it but the dog is but then Linus and Rita like to play chess so it doesn't really work when she says it so he told her not to so I came out to get some air and take a walk and Draco said he'd come to vouch for me and I'm tired and on my way back from the loo and got lost and he's helping me get back but then I'm not sure about his intentions he might be dishonorable after all without any chaperone but I do so love a good walk cuz my mum says so but after all he's good looking and brilliant so maybe I won't mind…"

She couldn't be sure, but she thought she must have stopped somewhere around that point. Harry blinked a few times and tilted his head slightly while the death eater kept opening his mouth, about to say something but changing his mind soon after and closing it again. "Get on then," he finally managed. "And don't let me see your faces out after hours again."

The two young people ran around the corner and out of the Death Eater's sight before doubling back and ending up inside McGonagal's office once more. "Why are we here again," asked Gwen, in control of her words once more.

"Why do you think," he said. "The lamp will be around her somewhere." As he opened the door, he turned to her with a smirk, "what was that all about back there?"

"What do you mean?"

"You think I'm brilliant, do you?"

"I—don't know what—c'mon," she pushed past him into the room. "We've got to find that lamp."

They scoured the room, behind every book and painting, in every drawer, and around every corner, but had no luck. Finally, Gwen walked over to the globe, examining it. She turned it on its axis to the left and saw a ship the size of her thumbnail. Its sails lay useless at the mast and it sat idle on its apparent course to the Middle East. "It needs some wind," she thought, and, bending forward, she sent a long stream of air from her mouth on to the globe in the direction of the ship's path. The galleon caught the gust and glid towards its destination; the second the bow touched land, the globe itself opened on an invisible hinge. Peering down into the first half of the globe, Gwen and Harry, who had joined her, saw a stone floor, unlike the dungeon, for it was well lit.

The globe held the image as a bowl might hold water, and upon touching the surface of the opening, thick ripples echoed off the inside edges. "I think we're supposed to go in," speculated Gwen. "You first," Harry said.

She thought he was joking, but he made no signs of moving so Gwen climbed up on the bookshelf next to it and jumped in, bumping her already bruised hip on the way down. She landed hard on the ground of the room inside the globe, and barely had time to catch her breath before Harry came down, only just heaving herself out of the way. "Ow," he moaned, rolling over on the floor.

Gwen crawled over to the wall to help herself up, wondering how it was possible that she could feel more bruised than before. Just as she got to her feet, albeit unsteadily, a voice sounded through the air:

"_If the lamp it is you seek,_

_The way was made not for the weak._

_Three tests I give to test your heart._

_It's first with honesty we will start." _

A circle made by light shining through cracks appeared on the floor. Harry walked forward and put his hand in the golden beams, but no sooner had he done so when the voice sounded again: "_Who are you?"_

"…Harry Potter."

The instant he uttered the name, the light turned red and he fell to the floor. "Harry!" Gwen rushed forward, but the minute she touched the light the voice spoke: "_Why do you seek the lamp?"_

Gwen hesitated. "I want to use its power to save people."

She waited for the light to turn red and strike her down, but instead the light vanished and Gwen noticed a door on the wall that she hadn't seen before. She knelt down and examined the wizard at her feet; he appeared to be asleep. She had no time to think about the floor's response to his answer, and rushed to the door, opened it, and thrust herself through.

The room was empty except for a mirror on the far side. Walking over to it, she was shocked at the initial lack of any reflection, but gradually she saw an image appear in the glassy blackness. As it grew clearer, she realized that she was seeing a muggle town. The image grew darker and the buildings caught fire. Black figures and wisps tormented the people on the streets, and screams shook the borders of the mirror. Suddenly, Gwen found herself a part of the carnage. The fire flickered across her eyes and green lights shot back and forth everywhere. And still the muggles screamed.

And then Gwen realized that she was holding her wand out in front of her, and, looking down, found it pointed at a cowering woman and her child. She shivered visibly and did not seem able to speak.

Dead bodies lay at Gwen's feet. "Wha…" She looked down at her own robes, black and stained with something dark on the sleeve. And still the woman cowered before her.

Gwen couldn't breathe. Her legs turned soft as butter and she fell to her knees. The woman looked at her curiously, but a flash of green wiped the light from her eyes and sent her and her child flying through the air.

Behind, where the woman and her child had crouched, stood a large, darkly cloaked figure, an outstretched wand in his hand.

"Get a move on!" he bellowed, his lips smacking together in a sickening grin. "We've got the whole town to finish off before dawn."

Gwen saw white and gritted her teeth. Her head erupted in a flurry of hate and despair, and before she knew what she was doing she had waved her wand. "Crucio!"

The wizard writhed on the ground, screaming and leaking tears like a child. Gwen felt her lips curl up in a smile. "How do you like it, monster!" Water fell from her eyes, and she saw the dead bodies around her and the man on the ground. She released him and lowered her wand. Tremors erupted through her body; she lost feeling in her limbs as she sunk to the ground.

As she knelt amongst the wreckage, the scene passed before her eyes as though it were a fog being sucked into a vacuum, and she saw once again the dark mirror and stone walls of the chamber. As she looked, the mirror melted into the wall and became a door. Gwen picked herself up, wiping away her tears, and walked through to the next room. As the door closed behind her, smoke filled her eyes and nose, but she smothered her coughs for fear of waking what slept there.

A green and silver-scaled horn-faced dragon lay curled up like a dog on the floor, its nostrils smoking. Beyond the dragon sat the door. Gwen slid against the wall as quietly as she could and, putting her hand on the lock, was dismayed to find it locked.

A jingle came from the dragon as it stirred briefly in its sleep, and Gwen saw the ring in its nose from which hung a golden key. She observed no way of getting at it from where she stood, and, venturing further, she though that she saw a small break in the ring. She wondered how much heat would be necessary to make the ring melt or how much force was needed to break it apart. Feeling in her bag, she brought out a box of Sneezing Pestrils. Tip-toeing as best she could up to the steamy nostrils of the beast, she carefully inserted a few of the Pestrils into its nose, burning her hands as she did so, and ran to the corner of the room as quickly as she could. Sur enough, with a few inhalations, he let out a monstrous fireball from his great mouth, spewing dragon spray. Amid the sneezing, Gwen heard a soft clink and saw the glint of the key as it dropped to the floor. Dodging stomping feet, swinging tail and fire, she grabbed the key, rammed it into the lock and was through the door.

The noise of the dragon's fit disappeared, and she had time to catch her breath and feel the labor of her bruised lungs. This room pulsed with a water blue light. In its center rested a small porcelain lamp the size of her fist.

Gwen hoped as she went to pick it up that nothing would happen if she touched it. As her fingers closed around its cool surface, all the light in the room swept into the lamp's spout and stayed there, glowing from within.

Remembering all the stories, Gwen rubbed its side, and a bluish light floated from the lamp's tip and hung in the air before her. Gradually it lengthened to the shape of a man, but instead of legs he had merely a wisp, and he hovered above the ground. "It's been a long while since I have seen the outside of that bottle," he said.

"Are you—a genie?"

"Yes, I suppose that is what I would be called."

Gwen almost shouted, "I wish…I wish the Dark Lord was a squibb!"

"One moment," he said. "I am afraid it does not quite work that way."

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I cannot grant your wishes, for you see, I have not even a wand."

"So you _are_ a wizard trapped in a bottle?"

"It is a bit more complicated than that. One hundred years ago I exchanged words with a witch hunter who was a firm believer in ends justifying means. He used dark magic to seal me in that lamp. But he did more than that.

He somehow twined together my soul with my Patronus, putting a curse on me. I cannot grant you wishes, but I must protect you. It is the only way I can use magic and can only be done in real peril."

"But, surely there's a way to free you and break the curse?"

He shook his head. "Sadly, none of which I am aware. Even if I could be free, I would die the moment blood began to flow through me. My physical body will not have lasted."

"If you could choose to be set free, would you?"

"Anything to be at peace."

Gwen looked at the blue man. "If you protect me, I will try to free you."

"That is quite a promise to make of your own free will," he said. "But one which I will honor."

He flew back into the lamp and Gwen felt herself suddenly pulled upward and out of the globe. She must have blacked out briefly. When she came to, the globe was shut and darkness crept through the windows.

The wizard who looked like Draco Malfoy and claimed to be Harry Potter lay sleeping on the floor. Gwen knelt down beside him and hit him squarely in the chest. "Wake up!" He coughed and opened his eyes, holding his chest.

"What did you do that for!" he struggled out.

She sat glaring at him and he smirked back at her. "Worried?" he said, touching Gwen's arm.

"What happened back there?" she demanded, accusation in her voice.

"What?"

"You said you were Harry Potter and failed the truth quiz thing. So you're obviously not Harry Potter."

"Did you get the lamp?" He sat up, clutching his head.

"No. Genies are a myth. Have you been Draco this whole time? I can't believe I trusted you, liked you even! I…you disgust me."

"I _am_ Draco Malfoy, but there's more to it than that."

"Not that much more if you're Malfoy."

He scowled. "I'm Draco, but not from the present."

She looked at him confused, so he continued. "You've heard of a Time-Turner. Well, I used one about a year after all the Voldemort business ended."

She gasped. "When does it end?"

"Very soon, actually, between now and dawn."

Gwen's eyes filled with tears at his words, but he ignored them and went on. "My family fell into disgrace afterwards, having no hold or glory with either the rebel or Death Eater side. Things won't be so great for me in the future. So I've come back to try and change things in my favor."

"You mean make sure You-Know-Who wins?"

"No, that wouldn't happen to easily. And my family has already fallen out of his good graces. Rather, to play a large role in Potter's success and the Dark Lord's downfall. That way I could have some kind of trust and glory in the post-Dark Lord days. It hasn't worked really. At all, actually. And the genie idea turned to nothing."

Gwen stared at him. "You've been thinking about yourself this whole time. You don't care about saving lives."

"Oh everyone's in it for himself anyway."

"That doesn't mean…" Their fight was interrupted by a loud voice, cold and high-pitched, coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: The world of the Harry Potter stories is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling._

Part 13

_"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood._

_Give me Harry Potter and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."_

Gwen took her hands from her ears. "What should we do?" she cried.

"Well, I certainly can't be seen. This place is going to be in uproar in about twenty minutes. We'll have to split up. I'll find a hiding place and try to do what good I can from there."

"What good can you do if you're hiding!"

"I do know ranged spells," he said defensively. They parted outside McGonagal's door, and Gwen wondered what on earth was going to happen. She brought out her wand, clutching it tightly, and strapped her bag more securely to her shoulders.

If there was to be a battle, everyone would have gathered in the largest area of the school: the Great Hall. As she reached the doors, she had to fight against the steady stream of students leaving the Hall. The group, overseen by professors and ghosts, whispered and sobbed about what was going on. They were evacuating.

Even as she fought, she recognized Harry Potter, the real Harry Potter, moving as quickly as he could through the crowd in the opposite direction she was going. She didn't have much time to dwell on it as she finally made it into the room and saw McGonagal, Fred, George, and a great multitude of people she knew all gathered at the end of the Hall. Marching up to George amidst a throng of people preparing to fight, she asked what was going on.

"Gwen!" he turned, "You look awful. Dying to join in, eh?"

"Yes," she looked around. "How are things being organized?"

"Well, we have various leaders covering various areas. Those three gents over there," he said pointing to a scar-faced man, a red-head who bore a resemblance to the twins and a man she recognized from newspapers as Kingsly Shacklebolt, "are leading defense of the grounds. McGonagal, Sprout and Flitwick are taking the towers and Fred and I are making sure ht passageway entrances are covered. Care to join?"

"Love to. What should I do now?"

"You can help me organize."

The statue that once covered this passageway's entrance had left it empty to fight in McGonagal's army of stone and metal warriors, and the dark hole in the pliath seemed to breathe anticipation, just daring someone to come out. Gwen, Fred and a few Hogwarts students she knew vaguely from her school years stood beside the opening, listening fervently with their wands drawn, waiting for any sign of trespass. The castle shook at intervals from the outside blows it received and dust and mortar fell from the ceiling, making breathing difficult.

At another shake of the castle, a figure with messy brown hair and glasses rounded the corner and sprinted through the corridor. "Nice night for it!" Fred shouted at him above the battle din. Harry ran around the opposite corner without a word.

Fred chuckled before turning to Gwen and Lee Jordon. "Oi! You two go and make a run of the other passages to make sure things are tip-top!"

She and Lee nodded in understanding and made their way West. "You reckon we have a shot," Lee said, his wand up.

"I hope so. I think so. We've got some great professors, wizards and witches on our side…and Harry."

"Yeh, we've got that."

A particularly heavy shake brought down a cloud of dust, and when it had lifted, Gwen found that she had lost Lee. But rounding the corner she saw a blonde head.

"Draco!"cried Gwen, approaching. "I thought you were going to wand snipe."

He looked at her confused. "Wha?"

"Oh, and I don't know if this is important, but I just saw Harry and I thought he might be making a beeline for the Room of Requirement."

"He was, was he?" Draco looked overjoyed and motioned down the hall to someone Gwen could not see. "Oi! Crabbe! Goyle! Potter's headed for the Room of Requirement! C'mon!"

Gwen realized her mistake as the two sped past her. She would have tried to stop them but at that moment a great deal of shouting and light flashing began down the opposite corridor, and she spotted Lee running in that direction. She joined him in the battle that officially found its way into Hogwarts.

The flashing light brought tears to Gwen's eyes through sheer fatigue as she battled alongside with Lee, Lavender Brown, and a Hufflepuff she'd never met before. The corridor was full of witches and wizards duckikng and dodging attacks from Death Eaters. The Death Eaters had their fair share of parrying and movement, but Gwen had a hard time really knowing who might be winning. She herself had every bit of her concentration focused on throwing and dodging blows. She had just finished taking out Stan Shunpike when shrieks filled the corridor. Gwen saw the spiders careening down, attacking those in their path. Even the Death Eaters, whose side they were supposed to be on ran with Order members, professors and students.

Gwen knocked as many spiders off of their victims as she could before she too had to run from their fury. She passed Neville and Peeves dropping Smargaluff Pods on what enemies they could among the flurry of people.

Hexing and immobilizing as she went, Gwen stopped suddenly when she reached part of the castle with its wall blown completely off. "Dumbledore's eyebrows," she gasped. From here she could see all the fighting going on in the grounds, though she had to be careful, for stray jinxes shot up from the battle below. She could even see the Dementors whose slithering shadow selves glid over the dying, feeding on their torment and misery. "Expecto Patronum!" Gwen sent her crane flying over the battlement, scaring off a few feeding Death Eaters. As she held her position, a feeling of dread filled her being. She felt her own self-centered ignorance over the last year, too worried about her own boredom to realize the greater problem, that people died and endured torture on a daily basis. And she had done nothing, but flirted and gone on a wild goose chase after a genie. And her she was now, feeling self-pity again. A hopeless circle of egocentrism and apathy while people continued to suffer. The Dementor was coming closer, feeding on her despair brought on by its own contagious melancholy and hopelessness. Just then, Gwen's bag burned blue and out flew the genie, a human patroness, sweeping the specter away and diving down over the grounds to deal similarly with some of its brethren before he swept back into her bag.

Gwen leant back hard on the wall, old and new wounds now acknowledged fully by the witch who had hitherto been able to ignore them. Knowing that if she stopped moving now she might not be able to get going again, she walked along the wall until she came to a niche that had once belonged to a statue, but was now occupied by a body. Through the dust, Gwen could just make out the starign eyes and laughing face of Fred. The room began to tilt sideways, and Gwen dropped to her knees. Staring at the blood covering his head, arms, and torso. How long he had been sitting there, she didn't know.

A rush of sadness prompted her to her feet, and she began desperately dragging him in the direction of the Great hall. He was too heavy for her to pick up on her own, and it was hard for her to grab his shoulders with her deformed finger in the way. The rest of her wounds forced her to rest every few feet and she felt the hopelessness of her mission, especially when she reached the staircases, on which the battle raged. There was a good mix of spiders, Death Eaters, Order members, professors, and students now, but Gwen couldn't make it down without help.

A large figure charged towards Gwen, firing a hex backwards at a Death Eater who fell over the banister with the spell's force.

Oliver Wood gave a short victory cry before turning and freezing in his tracks at the sight of Fred. Gwen watched the wall as Oliver knelt down, looked for a moment, and gave the body a pat on the shoulder before looking at Gwen. "How are things going Gwen?"

She gave a short, hysterical laugh. "Not too great, Oliver. And you?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Need some help?"

"Would love some." And Oliver hoisted Fred's body up on his shoulders with some effort and ahlf walked have jogged down the stairs while Gwen covered him as best she could.

They had finally made it to the great doors, stepping over bodies and carcasses on the floor, when the high pitched voice of Voldemort sounded once more:

"_You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. You have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. _

_I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall waif for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you will not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour." _

Someone had removed the House tables to make room for the makeshift hospital and. Gwen and Oliver brought Fred in to the Great hall and set him down into the center of the room alongside some of the other dead who had already been brought in. The Hall was already filled with the injured being treated and gradually it began to fill with the soldiers, tired from the battle. Fred Weasley was soon surrounded by his bereft familyand the room filled with the sound of mourning as more and more dead were brought in.

As Oliver went to help collecting the dead, Gwen assisted madam Pomfrey with her limited healing knowledge.

While Gwen was wrapping a bloody arm with bandages soaked in clot potion, Madam Pomfrey put ha hand on her shoulder. "You've done enough for now. Too much strain on an injured person does more harm than good. Finish with this patient and let me treat your scrapes."

While the nurse examined Gwen, she had a chance to feel the burning thirst in her throat and appreciate the fatigue in her bones. All around her, people mourned and comforted one another. She recognized the Gray Lady staring into the faces of the dead, and the Fat Friar patting a young man on the back. And all the while, bodies were lined up next to each other in the middle of the Hall. Many lost had been old acquaintances. Her observations were interrupted by a sharp pain in her index finger, and she yelped.

"Don't be a baby," said Madame Pomfrey. "Something needs to be done with this finger or you're likely to lose it."

"What exactly is wrong with it?"

"Looks like the nerve is completely severed and multiple bones are broken. The tendon's in bad shape too. But don't you worry. I can fix you right up."

Madame Pomfrey moved fast, wand and bottles flying, but when she had done, Gwen could move her finger and the feeling began to come back, though it would be crooked for the rest of her life.

"You won't have complete feeling in it for a month or so, but its fully functioning."

"Madam Pomfrey," Gwen began.

"Yes," she replied, putting away bottles and preparing to move to the next patient.

"Do you think we'll get through this?"

"I do."

"Why are you so sure?"

"I'm not." She looked at Gwen. "But it doesn't help matters to think negatively. Just do what you can to help where you can and focus on one moment at a time."

"Do you need any more help?"

"I have it covered, deary, thank you. Go and do as you like."

Gwen hopped off the platform where sat all the injured and began to comfort her friends and join in their sorros.

She caught sight of Professor McGonagal speaking in a group comprised of Kingsly, Sprout and Flitwick. The group broke up as Gwen approached. "Oh, Gwen. I haven't seen you for quite some time."

"I was in the dungeon the whole time, I suppose."

"yes, I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I can see they weren't friendly."

"I know you did what you could. Which is why I need to tell you something."

McGonagal turned towards her, her face stoic, but she nodded her to continue. "When I managed to get out of the dungeons, I went to your office. Naturally you weren't there. But I happened to blow on your globe and took your test and, well…" she removed the lamp carefully from her pack. McGonagal started.

"I don't regret it. I had good intentions, but they all came to nothing."

The older lady's eyes rolled from the lamp to Gwen's face, but she didn't make a move towards it. "Do you intend to return it to me?" she said, her eyebrow raising and her lips pursed.

"Not exactly," Gwen stuttered. "I—have you seen what's inside here?"

"Do you mean to say you have?"

"Yes. And it's not what anyone would have guess. Not anything bad," she added quickly, seeing the concern on her face. "Something rather sad. And I want to help what lives here."

The professor considered her and said, "I believe you are sincere. You would not have been able to get the lamp if you weren't. And I assume you have not changed so drastically since you were a student in my class."

"I _am _sorry, Professor. I know it wasn't mine to take."

"Say nothing more, there are more pressing concerns on my mind."

"May I ask you one question?" the lady nodded. "Did you get this from the trader who bought some items from your niece and nephew?"

"How did you…"

But she had no time to finish her sentence as Voldemort's voice once more sounded through the school:

_"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. _

_There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will ever member of their family. Come out fo the castle now, kneeel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."_

The room erupted in a panic of voices, whispers, cries of dread and fear. Gwen turned quickly to McGonagal, whose eyes had grown wide and her lips pursed tighter than she had ever seen them. Without a word, she hurried into the Entrance hall, Gwen at her hells and the assembly in the Great Hall following closely behind.


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: The world of the Harry Potter stories is in no way owned by me and belongs to J.K. Rowling._

Part 14

All grew quiet as McGonagal opened the door and trooped out. The Death Eaters had all lined up before the front steps behind Voldemort, the snake-like visage of whom sent chills up and down Gwen's spine. Around his neck lay a great snake, whose head Voldemort stroked with one pale finger. The Death Eaters stood silent in their triumph. And there at the front, in the arms of a blubbering Hagrid, lay Harry Potter, dead.

"NO!" McGonagal's cry elicited a gleeful laugh from somewhere in the dark crowd. The other survivors began to trickle onto the steps.

"No!"

"_No_!"

"Harry! HARRY!"

With these cries, the whole group that had filled onto the steps erupted in cries and insults, ventings of their pain and hopelessness.

"Murderers!"  
"Your mum would be ashamed!"

"Suck on my toe rag!" one brave soul ventured.

Gwen could only muster screams of rage.

"SILENCE!" the pale man cried, and a bang and a flash that blinded Gwen's eyes muted the crowd.

The crowd shivered in anticipation and fear. "It is over!" Voldemort screamed. "Lay him down, Hagrid, at my feet where he belongs!"

The giant man set the dead wizard down as if he held a baby, and, tearfully, walked without sound over next to McGonagal, his eyes fixed on Harry and refusing to look anywhere else either out of grief or guilt.

Voldemort began to pace, his hands spread out triumphantly. "You see?" he said. ""Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" a wizard Gwen couldn't see cried, and she could feel her mouth free. Immediately she and the group joined in a chorus of screams and cries until a second bang, louder than the first, silenced them again. Tears filled Gwen's eyes in anger and frustration at her inability to do anything as Voldemort continued.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds, killed while trying to save himself—" He was cut off that moment, for Neville Longbottom had rushed out of the Hogwarts crowd, wand drawn, aimed at Voldemort.

He ran for the snake-face, who dodged his attack and flicked his wand, sending Neville's own wand into his pale hands. Another flick cast a bright light in Neville's direction, sending the young wizard to the ground.

Voldemort threw his head back and laughed, throwing aside the attacker's wand. None of the Death Eaters made a move the whole time, the whole area as still as Harry's body. Neville grunted as he pushed himself up weakly from the ground.

Gwen's eyes were glued on Neville as Lord Voldemort said in a slithering whisper, "And who is this? Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

A wild-looking woman whom Gwen remembered seeing on the cover of a Daily Prophet edition laughed maniacally and whispered something excitedly in his ear. "Ah yes, I remember," Voldemort said, as Neville struggled to his feet, a lone figure in the space between Death Eaters and Hogwarts. "But you are a Pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?"

Neville stood, deviant and defenseless. "So what if I am?"

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of a noble stock." He grinned coldly. "You will make a very valuable death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over," said Neville. "Dumbledore's army!" he shouted. Gwen felt her tongue loosen once more, and she cheered as loudly as she could, fist in the air, the others on the porch cheering with her.

Unlike before, Voldemort did not try another Silencing Charm. Instead, his voice grew quiet and silky soft, "Very well. If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head…" He spoke the last bit so quietly that Gwen didn't hear the end of the senetence. But as Voldemort waved his wand, preparing to end Neville's life, a flapping came from above and what Gwen at first mistook for a dirty rag landed on Voldmort's hand. She then recognized the Sorting Hat. Voldmeort looked at it then back to the crowd and said, "There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School. There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone, won't they, Neville Longbottom?" he made Neville stand still with a charm and rammed the hat on his head and over his eyes.

Heat bubbled into Gwen's throat. She would let no one do that to her or anyone, and took a step as she reached for her wand, seeing others doing the same. But the Death Eaters, hitherto unmoving, raised their wands, keeping the belligerent survivors back.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to oppose me," the dark wizard said, and, waving his wand, lit the Sorting Hat on fire even as it sat on Neville's head. And yet he could not move. Gwen and the others in the crowd screamed, unable to do anything to help him.

But just then, the dawn sky lighting the scene, Gwen heard a battle cry and a flurry of movement from the school's boundaries. "HAGGER!" The small giant Gwen had seen peeking through the windows earlier came around the castle's side, and Voldemort's giants began to rush for him, the ground vibrating with their footfall.

And then Centaurs came with their bows, taking fire on the Death Eaters who scattered and yelled.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Gwen turned and saw Neville, the flaming hat falling from his head, rushing for Voldemort with a silver sword. And the next moment, the great head of Voldemort's snake flew spinning into the air, the body sliding from around the dark wizard's shoulders and landing in the dirt at his feet.

Voldemort had raised his wand against Neville, but Gwen's attention was taken as she heard Hagrid yelling, panicked, "HARRY! HARRY—WHERE'S HARRY?" Gwen had no time to look for Harry, as she jumped out of the way of a giant's foot. Next thing she knew, Voldemort and his army were rushing into the great hall and it was all she could do to protect herself. Left and right she shot hexes and jinxes, blocking many blows. She reached Neville who was doing as she was, and they both looked up as they saw Slughorn and a redhead leading a magnitude of reinforcements. Gwen saw her mother and brother, aunt and cousins as well as Lares and Mercia shoulder to shoulder with other family members of students she knew. She was swept up and into the Great Hall as they stormed the steps. Witches, Wizards, Centaurs, Elves and who knew what else mixed in the fray of fighting and dueling.

Gwen became locked in a duel against two death eaters at once and couldn't tell who was helping her. Just as she and her dueling partner took out the opponents, Gwen heard a woman cry, "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

A red headed woman took over the fight of the wild looking woman from earlier. "OUT OF MY WAY!" she shouted to the three girls who had been battling her. Gwen, her ally and a few others ran to her assistance. "No!" the woman cried. "Get back_! Get back_! She is mine!"

Gwen lined up against the wall to watch, her attention switching between this fight and Voldemort's battle with McGonagal, Slughorn, and Kingsly.

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" the wild-woman mocked cruelly. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

Mrs. Weasley screamed in fury. "You—will—never—touch—our—children—again!" And with a final fierce blow, she had sent a curse straight at the laughing woman, freezing the cruelly smiling look on her face as she fell away.

Voldemort's scream echoed through the hall and he began to fight with greater force, flinging his three opponents flying through the air. Just as he had aimed his wand at Mrs. Weasley, a cry shivered through the crowd. "_Protego_!"

A shield erupted in the center of the Great Hall, and standing suddenly in the middle of it all was the Boy Who Lived.

Gwen screamed in joy, the crowd echoing her feelings. "Harry!" "HE'S ALIVE!" But no one said anymore as harry and Voldemort began to circle each other. Gwen felt like she was watching a muggle boxing match, the crowd watching in anticipation. But the fear she felt kept her from enjoying it as she might if it were less serious.

"I don't want anyone else to try to help," Harry cried, his voice carrying through the hall. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."

Voldemort made a disturbing snake-like noise. "Potter doesn't mean that. That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"

"Nobody," Harry said. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither could live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good."

Gwen wondered what Horcruxes were, and saw he confusion mirrored in those around her.

"One of us?" Voldemort said, rigid and tense like a compressed coil. "You think it will be you, do you, the boy who survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"

"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?" they were circling still and Harry continued. "Accident, when I decided to fight you in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight you again?"

"_Accidents_!" Voldemort screamed. No one in the Hall moved. Indeed, Gwen though if she breathed too loudly she would miss something. "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!"

"You won't be killing anyone else tonight," Harry said, calm and sure. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't' you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people—"

"But you did not!"

"—I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?"

"_You dare_—"

"Yes, I dare," he said. "I know things you don't, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"

And harry went on to explain Dumbledore's death, how he was already going to die from a curse and how Snape, actually a hero, killed him on his own orders, and how the Elder Wand, the unbeatable wand of legend, had belonged to Dumbledore and had, unknown to either, been won by Draco Malfoy and how Harry had taken Draco's wand.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" Harry whispered, audible only to Voldemort and those closest to the circling foes. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does…I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

And as the sun rose, shining bright through the nearest window, blinding all in the room so that the two figures became a blur of light, they both unleashed:

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

"_Expelliarmus_!"

The bang was deafening and golden flames like the sun erupting at the center of their green and red spell jets forced itself back at Voldemort, sending the Elder Wand flying high across the ceiling towards Harry. And as he caught it in his hand, Voldemort crashed backwards, dead.

A brief silence was broken by screams of triumph from the crowd. And Gwen wept tears of unspeakable joy, embracing the stranger next to her. The next second she was running towards Harry in the midst of everyone else rushing forward towards their savior.

Gwen had gotten a chance to clasp the hand of Harry Potter, longing to know him as she thought she had, feeling disappointment keenly at her not being his intimate friend mingling with her unutterable elation. But here she was, just another survivor in a sea of fellow normal wizards and witches. And yet she had fought. She played her part.

As Harry Potter wandered around the Great Hall, doing his duty, Gwen found her family and shared in their celebration and mourning.

McGonagal had placed the tables back in the room, and Gwen went around, visiting everyone she could, Revenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, professor, student, elf, centaur. She comforted one she-house elf who had lost her son in the battle, and listened to Neville Longbottom recount his version of the fight.

She spotted McGonagal sitting with her niece, nephew and brother, and , scanning the room one last time while sitting once more with her family, caught sight of a solitary Draco beckoning to her form the entrance to the Great hall.

"I'll be right back," she told her mother, and walked through the crowd to the grinning wizard. "First time I've seen you actually smiling," she said.

"Well," he shrugged, "it's a special occasion."

"So you _are_ happy about the way things turn out?"

"They're not as bad as they could be."

"Did you see it though?" She trembled in excitement. "See Harry and V—Voldemort and how he died!"

"Saw it a year ago."

Gwen laughed. "I guess so. What happens to all the Death Eaters?"

He shrugged. "Some claim to be penitent, others that they were controlled. Some refuse to believe he's dead, but they all go to Azkaban."

Gwen looked at the floor thoughtfully. "And what happens to you?"

He looked past her at himself huddled at a table with his mother and father, all sitting alone and unsure of themselves.

"My family and I become social outcasts for a while, first of our own free will. But it gets better."

"And what will you do?"

"I'll wait out my time. I've got a little ways to go before I have to get back to where I'll be with the Time Turner. Maybe I'll try to make things better for myself in the meantime. Who knows."

She looked him more gently in the eye. "Try to be happy. There's more to life than power."

"I doubt that," he smirked. On a whim, Gwen threw her arms around his neck and said, "Take care of yourself. Make friends."

He was taken aback, "I'll try."

"And thank you for an interesting year." She began to release him when he put his arms around her waist and hugged her back, kissing her on the cheek. After lingering for a moment, he let go of her.

"No problem." And he walked out the door.

Gwen turned, looking into the Great Hall. The Malfoys sat whispering together, Draco's mother hugging him and his father looking at the table. Glancing at her own happy family, she walked over to the lonely trio and said, "Hullo."


End file.
